


All's Fair In Love and War

by WritingHard2



Category: Recess (Cartoon)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi, OR IS HE, Possibly Unrequited Love, TJ is dense
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 22:06:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29142696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritingHard2/pseuds/WritingHard2
Summary: To achieve your love you can do anything.A repost of a fic I deleted years ago over on Ff.net. Encouraged to repost and finish after reading Astronomer Always "Bouquet".
Relationships: T. J. Detweiler/Ashley Spinelli, T. J. Detweiler/Gretchen Grundler, T. J. Detweiler/Vince LaSalle, T.J. Detweiler/Gus Griswold, T.J. Detweiler/Mikey Blumberg
Kudos: 3





	1. Friday the 14th

Same year, same routine.

Opening his locker, TJ had to hold his hands out to stand a chance at catching the cards that fell out. Granted, it was a lot less than the previous years, but it was still quite a number of cards for one person. By now, his junior year in high school, he learned to bring a plastic shopping bag or two to be able to carry all the valentine cards home. Throwing them out would be rude, and he wouldn’t want anyone to do that if he gave them a card. At least not in front of his face. Besides, he had no idea if one or more of the people were in the hall, watching him right now for his reaction.

At least it was Friday.

“Hey, Teej,” Spinelli said coming up to him. She spotted the bag of cards in his hands. “Still getting those, huh?”

“Yep. Same as every year,” he said, closing his locker. “I don’t get it. Why do I get so many? You’d think it would’ve died down by now.”

“’Cause you’re a cool person and way too easy to get along with,” said Spinelli. Everyone left the school, happy that it was finally the weekend. “What are you doing tonight?”

“Looking through these. Some of them have candy,” TJ said.

“You coming to Vince’s game later?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course. But we’ve got a few hours to kill. What about you?” He asked.

“Gutting out my room. It looks like a tornado went through it,” Spinelli said. “Meet over at your place?”

“Yep, same as always.”

. . .

Sitting at his desk, TJ quickly read over one of the last cards as he munched on the candy offered to him inside off another. Again, this one offered no clue as to who it was from, except for the handwriting itself, but that didn’t help him much. If these people had the bravery to slip the card into his locker, they couldn’t at least signed it, or at least gave him their initials so he had a lead, but no. The only think he could tell is which cards was from girls and which were from guys. There was about an equal number of them this year.

It wasn’t like he one to rudely turn people down and leave them embarrassed. He’d let them down gently if he wasn’t interested. Not that he had experience in doing that, but it he told himself he would do. Funny. People were brave enough to leave card but not ask directly. Oh well, what are you gonna do?

“Let’s see what’s next?” He said, reaching into the bag. He pulled out another card and opened it. Nice neat cursive handwriting. He placed them in a pile with the other four odd ones. The handwriting in those were all a little too neat. As if they wrote them so that he couldn’t recognize their handwriting. If only they knew he couldn’t tell the difference between one person’s handwriting and another.

Was he really this popular, though? Popular enough for-he counted them again-twenty seven valentine’s? Maybe one or two, but almost thirty? Three years of this and he still wasn’t used to it.

Welp. Until one of the people who these come from came up to him, he couldn’t do anything about it. And even then, he couldn’t say whether or not he was interested in dating at all, so he might end up turning them down anyways.

Checking his watch, he grabbed a few more pieces of candy and headed out.


	2. Fight the Good Fight

Fighting the Good Fight, or How I Found Out My Friend Is A Teddy Bear

The humid air of the gym reeked of sweat coming down the skin of those inside. Most inside stood at or near edge of the room, preoccupied in watching one than sparring with one another or just throwing punches at one of the many punching bags. Seeing this one person on their own wasn’t an odd sight at this downtown gym, as anyone who asked her to spar was either overly confident and left with a loss, or were new and only judged her ability based on her size. Such an incident happened a while earlier, and while the opponent put up a good fight, getting a couple of decent hits in, she didn’t go down and ultimately one another victory. Today, however, her punches were thrown extra hard, and kicks given with more force, sending echoes from each hit to the poor red punching bag that was on the receiving end of her wrath.

Ashley Spinelli, or simply known as Spinelli, continued to go at the punching bag with seemingly limitless energy. Breathing hard, she sent out another round of punches, blind to the intimidated eyes watching her. She stayed light on her feet, her ponytail bouncing around as she moved. Short, she was barely over half the height of the punching bag hanging from the ceiling.

Finally, feeling that she was done for the day, she stepped back from the punching bag. She looked at the accumulating rips. The thing was barely holding together, and her having a field day on it for an hour straight didn’t help. She grabbed her duffel bag sitting against the wall, and headed out the door.

“Someone should get that thing replaced,” she said. She reached inside the bag, grabbing a small towel to wipe the sweat off her forehead. “It’s about to fall apart.”

They all nodded as she left. If the petite fighter had stayed for another moment, she would have seen a rip at the bottom give away and the sand pour out, piling up on the padded floor. The others cringed. Any one person who was able to do that was more than worthy of respect.

Stepping out into the cool end of summer evening air as refreshing after being in that stuffy gym. Wearing a pair of red boxing shorts, a fitted white t-shirt, and light shoes, the heat from the workout kept her from shivering. Two years spent working out like this and she was used to her muscles aching, and it barely registered, even after the extra effort she put in today.

While it hardly bothered her on most days, for some reason, it stuck in her mind today. Those damn Ashley’s and their comments about her appearance and clothes and who she chose to be around with. Did they have nothing better to do but make fun of her? Most people picked up a hobby at this point in their lives, shouldn’t they get one? One that didn’t involve her at all? Well, at least she was able to put that pent up anger to good use, and not knocking their noses up and into their skull.

She stood in front of the bus stop, waiting for the bus to arrive. She couldn’t see it see it down the street, so she might be waiting for a while. It was Friday night, and while on any other Friday she would be trying to figure out what party to go to, she wanted to relax, maybe watch a movie, and go to sleep. After a long shower, of course.

When the bus finally arrived, Spinelli climbed on, grabbing a book out of her bag. She blamed her friends for getting her into dark graphic novels. A least seeing others art styles helped her improve her own art work. She was almost finished with this volume. She should pick up the next volume sometime soon.

Once the bus stopped at her neighborhood, she didn’t head home right away. Her parents were out visiting their aunt, who was very pregnant and ‘ready to burst’ as her mother put it, leaving her the house for the weekend. She could do anything she wanted, but being home by herself wasn’t one of them at the moment. Spinelli walked right past her house, continuing a little ways up the street.

Making sure the strap of her bag wouldn’t slip off her shoulders, she walked into TJ’s backyard until she reached the tree just outside of his window. She pulled herself up onto the first branch, then the second, and keep going until she was sitting right outside of his window. The light was still on, so he was definitely home. Spinelli checked the window, but I was locked. She would have to wait until TJ showed up.

Which wasn’t long at all. She couldn’t even get her phone out of her pocket face enough to text him before her into his room. It looked like he just came out of the shower, only sporting a pair of gray sweatpants and a towel he was using to dry his hair, unaware of her presence outside of his window.

. . .Did she really have to let him know she was here right away? Sure, she would be kind of a creeper doing it, but when was the next time she was going to get a view like this? Was that the ‘Ashley’ in her speaking? Probably. Was she still going to do it? Well, did it count if he didn’t notice?

Hmm, TJ’s been working out. When the hell did that happen?

When he finally turned around and saw her sitting outside, he jumped from surprise. He came over and opened he window.

“You scared me, Spin,” TJ said, leaning on the windowsill.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to,” she apologized. “Can I still come in?”

“Yeah, you can always come in. Gimme your hand.”

With TJ helping her keep her balance, Spinelli slowly climbed from the branch in through the window. She let her bag drop to the floor.

“Geez, Spinelli, what the hell happened to you?” Se head him ask.

“What?”

“You look like you just went toe-to-toe with Mike Tyson,” he said. While she sat on his bed, he went to his closet and pulled out a small first-aid kit. She folded her arms and rolled her eyes.

“The first-aid kit, Teej? Really?” She scoffed. “You’re overreacting.”

“Spinelli you’re _bleeding_ ,” he said. He joined her on his bed, and started digging through the plastic case for what he needed. “I’m hardly overreacting.”

“I am?”

“See? You didn’t even know,” said TJ. He brushed back part of her bangs covering the wound. Though the bleeding had stopped and the blood that ran from I and down the side of her head had dried, she still felt a sting when his fingers brushed around the cut. “So what happened?”

“It must’ve been from when I had a match with a new chick. She was built like a fucking house so she probably thought she would win against me easily,” Spinelli explained. She winced when TJ started to clean it with a cotton ball dabbed with alcohol. It burned, but she sucked it up. A cut drenched with sweat didn’t bode well for not having an infection. She dealt with that before on her arm, though luckily a round of anti-biotics took care of that quick. “But I showed her! I took a couple rounds, but she won’t come challenging me again anytime soon. Ow!”

“Sorry,” he said. He tossed the now bloody cotton ball in the nearby trashcan. “It’s not a big cut. I think it just bled a lot because it’s on your head. I’m glad you won, but I don’t think I’ll ever get used to seeing you beat up and covered in cuts and bruises.”

“It comes with boxing, Teej. And I’m no planning on quitting anytime soon,” Spinelli said, rubbing her upper arms. Small spots ached a bit when she ran her fingers over them. New and fading bruises. There were even more on her stomach, but she wasn’t willing to quit something she loved over a few minor injuries.

“I know. I just don’t like seeing you hurt, Spin,” said TJ. “You staying over?”

“You don’t mind, do you? My parents are visiting my aunt across town ‘cause she’s about to have her baby any day now,” Spinelli said. “I didn’t go because I would only get in the way.”

“Of course, you can stay. You’re always welcome over,” he said. “Your stuff is still where you put it.”

“Thanks.” Spinelli walked to his dresser and crouched down to reach the bottom drawer. She opened it, and the small collection of her clothes and pajamas still sat, folded. It wasn’t exactly an uncommon thing for her to sleep over at TJ’s house, whether or purpose or just falling asleep without meaning to. Rather than bringing over clothes every time, she decided to keep some over for whenever she spent the night. “I gotta take a shower, though.”

“Yeah, that would be a good idea.”

“Oh, so you’re saying I stink?”

“You said it, not me,” he said. She playfully hit him with the small pile of pajamas she pulled out.

“Jerk,” she said jokingly. “My soap and junk is still under the sink, right?”

“Yep.”

“Great.” Spinelli stepped into the bathroom attached to TJ’s bedroom. It was spotless, not a single smudge of grime or sign that anyone came out of it. “Wow. It’s clean.”

“I just cleaned it like an hour ago,” he called from the bedroom. Right as she sat her clothes on the counter, TJ came in with a towel. “Need anything else?’

“Nah, I’m good, thanks,” she said, taking the towel. “Now can I get some privacy?”

He left, closing the bathroom door on his way out. Right then. She noticed how gross she felt from all the sweating from earlier. Turning on the shower, the bathroom soon filled with steam. She jumped in the shower, taking a well-deserved shower.

. . .

The two of them ended up in the living room on the couch, watching some old movie that happened to be on TV at the moment. The remaining two pieces of pizza sat on the coffee table growing cold after the decided they both had enough. Spinelli sat with her phone next to her, occasionally vibrating as her mother sent her pictures or her new cousin.

“You’d think it was my mom who had a baby,” Spinelli said. She sunk further into the couch. “She keeps sending me pictures.”

“Really? Can I see?” TJ asked.

“Why?” She asked, unlocking her phone without looking.

“I just wanna see,” he said. The movie they were watching was quickly forgotten. Then again, it wasn’t that interesting in the first place. “I love babies.”

“You’re weird. Here.” She handed him her phone with the text messages with the pictures her mother sent open. She sat back, watching him scroll through the pictures.

“It’s not that weird is it? Babies are awesome. They’re so tiny,” said TJ. As he scrolled through the pictures, more continued to come in. Based on the color of the blanket the baby was wrapped in, they assumed the baby was a girl.

“For a guy, it’s kinda weird. And I wouldn’t call a screaming ball of spit up and poop awesome,” said Spinelli.

“Well I dunno about the crying part. Babies don’t cry when I hold them. And they can’t help everything else,” he said. He handed the phone back to her before taking the remaining pizza into the kitchen. Spinelli looked at the phone when it vibrated again. Yet another message from her mother. The baby was definitely a girl, and her name was Grace. “It’s crazy that we all used to be that small. Tell your aunt if she ever needs a babysitter, I’m here. I’m great with babies. I even have references.”

“I can, but my aunt is super clingy when she has a baby. She’s wouldn’t let the most qualified babysitter help,” she said. “Are we done with this movie? We’ve been watching it for an hour and I have no idea what’s going on.”

“Me too. I’m ready to go to bed,” TJ said, returning with a bottle of water in hand. “What about you?”

“Same,” Spinelli said. She grabbed the remote off the coffee table and turned the TV off. She followed TJ upstairs and into his room. After a quick trip to the bathroom, she was ready to crawl into bed. She came back into his bedroom, tying her hair into a bun so it wouldn’t bother her while she slept, but it would probably come out sometime in the middle of the night, like it always did. When she came back, she saw TJ standing at his dresser, tossing back a pill before swallowing it down with water.

“What’s that?” She said. He turned to face her.

“What’s what?”

“You know what. That pill. What’re you sick or somethin’?” She asked, siting on his bed.

“Technically, I guess. But it’s whatever. It doesn’t matter,” said TJ. He turned the lights off, but the moon still shined through the curtains.

“It matters to me! I’d wanna know if you were sick,” Spinelli said as they climbed into bed. She laid on the side facing the wall. “C’mon, tell me.”

“Do you really wanna know?”

“Yes!”

“Alright, if you have’ta know,” he said. He paused, and Spinelli watched him as he thought of the right words. The light coming through the window reflected off his blue eyes, and it became a little, or a lot, harder at him for keeping a secret like this. She noticed a brown ring on the edge of iris that she was sure wasn’t there before. “The summer before we came to high school. Between middle school and high school, after the six of us stopped hanging around each other. Right before school let out, I got sick.”

“Yeah, I remember that. You weren’t at school the last couple of weeks,” she said.

“’Cause I was in the hospital. My liver was failing and the doctors couldn’t figure out why. It came out of nowhere,” he explained. “I was perfectly fine before it, and there wasn’t a family history of it happening or anything.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?! Your liver? That’s serious!”

“You don’t have to tell me, I lived it. They tried everything but I wasn’t getting better. There were days that I couldn’t move, I was so weak. Heh, I even thought that I was gonna die. Like I was mentally preparing myself for it. Then they finally figured it out. I have Wilson’s disease.”

“Wilson’s disease?”

“Mm-hmm. It’s genetic, like if both parents have the gene for it, then their kids have a higher chance of getting it. It’s basically causes too much copper to build up in your liver and brain. So now, I have to take medication, and I have to limit how much mushrooms, chocolate, shellfish, and nuts I eat, but it’s no big deal. After they figured it out, I was better in a couple of weeks. And Becky had to get tested, too. But I don’t even think about it much now,” he said. “I’ve got this weird brown ring around my iris from it, though.”

“It’s still serious, Teej. You should’ve told me! You were really sick and none of us knew about it or visited you,” she said. “You could’ve died, dammit!”

“I know, but I didn’t! I’m fine now. I don’t even have any symptoms because of the medication I take, and I won’t in the future. I’m fine, Spinelli,” he said, trying to reassure her. “And it’s not like I’m mad at you guys for not visiting. We weren’t hanging together anyways.”

“I know, but still! I would want to know. You better tell me the next time something happens, okay?”

“Okay. I promise, Spin. So that’s half of what my medication is for—“

“There’s _more?_ What the hell, dude?”

“You wanted to know, so I’m letting you know now,” he said, putting his hands up in defense. “This happened last summer, while I was staying with family in Germany for two months. Me and this group of guys I became friends with were in a park playing basketball. It was cloudy and a storm was supposed to roll in later, but we thought nothing of it. Then the next thing I knew I was on the ground and they were all asking if I was okay. I felt like I was hit by a truck, but I thought I was fine, it was weird. Turns out I was struck by lightning—“

“ _You were struck by lightning?_ What the fuck?!”

“I know, right? Bizarre. I brushed it off and kept playing, though,” he said. “Then I passed out and woke up in a hospital. Turned out like five minutes after I got back up my heart stopped.”

“The world has just been fucking you up, Teej,” Spinelli said. She shook her head at the things that have happened to her friend without her knowledge. “Left and right. Jesus Christ, struck by lightning?!”

“I know, it’s crazy. So I take medication for that, but it’s just a muscle relaxer and pain killer. Without it my left arm spazzes out and I can’t control when that happens. Hurts like a bitch, too. I was hit over my left shoulder blade, but it wasn’t a direct hit. The medication sucks, but I have this awesome scar from it so I can’t be too mad that it happened.”

“Can I see?” she asked.

“Aww, right when I got comfortable. Alright, if you must,” he said, pretending to whine. He sat up, and sat on the edge of the bed with his back to her. Spinelli pushed herself up, sitting crosslegged as he pulled his t-shirt up and off.

First thing, _back muscles_. Her one weakness. But she embraced it shamelessly. Second, the scar. It started over his left shoulder blade: an oblong circle with a thick line that travelled down his arms and broke off into smaller and smaller jagged lines. There were a few spread out on his back, too, but they were much thinner. Pretty badass looking. She traced over it with her fingers. Whenever she paused for a few seconds, she could feel his muscles twitching a bit.

“At least it looks cool,” she said. “You were struck by _lightning_. But you’re just so casual about it.”

“That’s the only way I can look at it. I survived, so it’s not a big deal,” said TJ. “So that’s what those pills are for.”

“You should’ve told us. Or me at least,” she mumbled, her fingers slowly gliding over his scar on his back. “I know we stopped hanging out and everything, but I still cared about you and junk.”

“I know. I’m sorry for not telling you, Spin,” he said, putting his shirt back on. “But I’m fine, now. It’s over with.”

“Stop brushing it off like it’s nothing! You almost died, _twice,_ and none of us were there with you!” She said. He voice trembled, and she clenched her fists as her eyes began to burn with rising tears. “You could’ve died and you’re like the only person who I can really open up to! You better tell someone if you’re on your deathbed again anytime soon!”

“I will, okay? I promise,” he said. He turned around to face her. “Please don’t cry, Spin.”

“I’m not crying, I just upset,” Spinelli said, wiping away her ears before they fell. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yep! Just have to take the medication and I’m perfectly fine.”

“Good. ‘Cause I like having you around, dude,” she said. “That was a lot. Can we go to sleep now?”

. . .

When Spinelli woke up in the middle of the night, the first thing she noticed that something was laying on her waist, and she definitely didn’t want to move. It was the weekend, right? That meant staying in bed, especially since she didn’t have anything to do. Homework could wait, and she deserved a day to simply relax and be lazy. But still, going back to sleep right away wasn’t going to happen as I slipped just out of her fingers.

The blanket covering her was extra soft, and someone would have to be dying to get her out of it. There was also something heavier on her waist. Always sleeping with her arms above her waist, she didn’t feel like moving to figure out what it is. Grudgingly, she opened her eyes, if only for a few minutes. Still in the relatively same position she fell asleep in, she saw that the weight was just TJ’s arm.

He wasn’t holding on to her or grabbing her or anything. It seemed like it happened on accident. It was just a twin bed after all. It felt nice, though. Gave her a nice ‘safe’ feeling. She wasn’t gonna pull away anytime soon. A part of her was curious if it what the girls at school said about him giving the best hugs was true. The guy was built like a lumberjack, kinda. Short, muscles, but still had a bit of tummy. Maybe his hugs were nice.

She was thinking about this too much. Time to go back to sleep.

…

The feeling of food coming up the same way it went in woke Spinelli up early in the morning. In a rush to get to the bathroom, she punched and kicked her way out of bed. She barely made it in time to avoid chucking her cookies on the bathroom floor. She retched, not bothering to pull her hair back. Still tired, she sat on the edge of the bathtub.

Ugh.

Was this really happening _now_?

If someone told her that she was being stabbed, repeatedly, in her lower stomach, Spinelli would be pressed to believe them, as the smallest movement made the pain travelled throughout her body. She trembled slightly, partially from vomiting, partially from the reason she desperately wanted birth control.

“You okay, Spin?” She heard TJ ask in the doorway.

“No,” he mumbled. “Did I hit you?”

“Yeah, kinda. You have a really good kick, but it’s whatever,” he said. He came over, and pulled her hair out of her face and back into a ponytail. “So is this because the pizza isn’t agreeing with you, or. . .?”

“Yeah, that,” she said. “I feel like I’m dying.”

“I’m sorry you feeling like you’re dying. I was gonna go to the sore when I woke up anyways, but I might as well go now. Do you need anything?” He asked.

“Can I text it to you?” She asked.

“Yeah, sure.” He said, patting her back. “There’s aspirin in the medicine cabinet, okay?”

She groaned an affirmative response. While she struggled to keep the remaining contents of her stomach down, she listened to the sound of him moving around in the room before he left. At least it was the weekend, and she wasn’t expected to go to school. Everyone was 5 times as annoying on her period, and it was a miracle she didn’t deck someone and break a nose. 

She picked herself back up, returning back to the bedroom. She pulled out a clean pair of pajamas out of her reserved drawer, basketball shorts and an old t-shirt, and went back into the bathroom. Clawing under the bathroom sink, she pulled out the almost empty box of tampons. Welp. At least she wasn’t completely empty handed. She picked her phone up, and sent a text.

Another shower was urgently needed, if only to help her muscles relax. She would’ve taken the aspirin beforehand, but without anything in her stomach, aspirin only made her stomach hurt. She could go for a nice thick slice of pound cake. Not to flavorful, but still had a bit, with plenty of body to fill her up.

A lemonade to wash it down.

Maybe with a side of vanilla ice cream.

And skittles.

A chocolate bar too. White chocolate.

And Laffy Taffy.

And Gummi bears

Or sour gummi worms

Or a donut. Glazed. Or plain. Or chocolate. Or jelly.

. . .

Somewhere in a store in town, TJ’s phone was being bombarded with texts.

. . .

The smell of breakfast food stirred Spinelli out of her sleep. She looked at the clock, and saw that she had only slept for an hour and a half. Still, her stomach ached, and she wanted to crawl into a hole and die. The food did smell good though. Maybe she could make an exception and go downstairs to eat? She moved her legs out from the fetal position, and the pain ached again.

Maybe not.

No.

She had to get up and move around. That’s the only thing that helped the pain go away. She pushed herself up, groaning as she sat on the edge of the bed. One more push, and she was up on her feet, but slouching. Good thing it was a Saturday. Absolutely nothing productive will be getting done by her. She went downstairs, the smell of food getting stronger as she went. There was definitely bacon involved, and she was in the mood to eat all the bacon. When she turned into the kitchen, TJ placed a plate of pancakes on the table.

“Hey, Spinelli. Still feeling like you’re dying?” TJ asked.

“Not as much. I’m more hungry than anything right now,” Spinelli said. She plopped in one of the seats and used a fork to stab a few pancakes and bring them to her plate. With one hand she poured syrup and with the other took half the bacon. Usually a bowl of cereal would be enough to satisfy her on the weekend, but it was nice having someone else make breakfast was nice. “Thanks for breakfast, dude.”

“No problem. Your stuff is on the counter,” he said joining her at the table. While chewing, Spinelli looked up from her plate. Like he said, there were three filled plastic bags sitting on the counter.

“You really bought all that stuff I asked for?” She asked. “Don’t tell me you actually did.”

“Mm-hmm. The ice cream’s in the freezer and the lemonade is in the fridge.”

“Aw, Teej you didn’t have to do that. I was only half serious when I sent those,” Spinelli said. “I was just being hungry and hormonal.”

“It’s no problem. As long as it makes you feel better,” he said. “I have no idea what it’s like, but I can try to make you happy through it."

“Well thanks, anyways. I appreciate it, dude. And so will my cravings,” she said, taking a bite of syrupy pancakes.

. . .

Laying on the couch while leaning a bit over the edge of the arm, Spinelli watched her friend in the kitchen, mopping the floor. Sleep wasn’t something that was going to come back to her anytime soon, and with nothing much on TV, it was the only thing she could think of doing. It wasn’t a bad thing: it let her mind roam, and she even got a few ideas for paintings that she noted down on her phone for later.

“I mean I get cleaning up after making breakfast, but what’s with the mopping?” Spinelli asked. She adjusted her position on the couch.

“My mom asked me to clean the house while they’re gone, so I’m trying to get that done,” he explained, moving the chairs out of the way. “Rather get it over with now while it’s early.”

“Dude, what the fuck?”

“What?”

“It’s Saturday. The one day of the week that is meant to sleep in and be lazy, but you’re up before 9, _cleaning,_ ” Spinelli said. “Just like _mummy asked._ When did you get so. . . _responsible?_ ”

“You act like it’s the end of the world, Spin. I’m just cleaning,” TJ said. He left the mop and bucket in the corner and joined her on the couch. “It’s not that weird, is it? I have nothing else to do so I might as well get it over with.”

“A little bit. Mama’s boy,” she said, teasingly. “And for someone who used to raise hell on a regular basis, it is. Hmmh. Maybe that lightning strike rearranged something in your head.” She chuckled a bit, not seriously meaning what she said. It didn’t take her longer than a few seconds to notice he wasn’t laughing along. She looks at his, seeing the thoughtful and distant look on his face.

“Sometimes I think about that,” he said. “I mean it’s not unheard of for that to happen.”

“I didn’t mean it, Teej. I was just joking!”

“I know. It’s nothing. I’m overthinking things,” he said, standing up. “I should get to cleaning upstairs.”

“You need any help?”

“Nah, I’m fine. You should relax,” he said, going to the hall closet. He pulled out a vacuum and headed upstairs. “What are you gonna do?”

“Probably take a nap. I feel kinda useless not helping out,” Spinelli said. “You sure you don’t want me to help out just a little bit?”

“I’m sure.” He said from the top of the stairs. She slouched on the couch, unwilling to move. A nap sounded like a good idea, even with the vacuum running. That never bothered her much; it was like white noise. Candy was a good idea, too. Forcing herself off the couch, Spinelli headed into the kitchen where her three bags of goodies sat. She dug through them all, and every single thing she texted TJ that she wanted was in there. She even went through her messages to check out of curiosity. Every single thing.

“Guys too sweet for his own good,” she said, opening a bag of Skittles. “Way too sweet.”

As she popped a small handful of the rainbow candy in her mouth, she heard the vacuum roaring upstairs. Being in such a clean house made her want to go clean her pit of a room. It wasn’t even hat bad but according to her mom it wasn’t acceptable. At least she didn’t have rotting food in there buried underneath her bed. It could always be worse. But whatever. Today’s a day to be a lazy piece of shit, and, in her particular case, having a sweetheart to dote on you. And dammit she was going to enjoy it. After a few more handful of candy, she headed upstairs.

. . .

When Spinelli woke up from her nap, she was grasping and snuggling into the plushiest of pillows on the bed. As comfortable as it was, I wasn’t enough to make her happy, and right now, her being happy was her priority. As much as all the candy and cakes and other junk food did to satisfy her craving, right now, she could do without anymore. At least at the moment. The weight of the blanket over her helped her figure out exactly what she wanted.

She wanted a hug.

At the bare minimum. She hated to admit it but a good cuddling session might make her feel a lot better, and less like her organs were being gutted out. Damn hormones. She slumped out of bed, still holding that pillow, and headed downstairs. Looking in the kitchen, den, and living room, she didn’t find TJ anywhere. Did he go out somewhere? Then she heard a how humming sound coming from the basement. 

She stood at the open door leading into the basement. It always creeped her out a little, both as a kid, and even now, though it was relatively well-lit. She was able to see TJ standing at the washing machine. Once he closed he op and turned I on, he turned and was surprised at her sudden appearance.

“Geez, Spin. You’ve gotta stop sneaking up on me like that,” he said, coming up the stairs. “You’re gonna give me a heart attack. You okay?”

“No,” she mumbled into the pillow.

“Why not?”

“I wanna hug,” Spinelli said. Seeing the somewhat surprised look on his face, she rolled her eyes. “Don’t give me that look. I wanna hug okay? It’ll make me feel better and it’s free. You gotta problem with that or somethin’?”

“No! It’s just that you don’t go around asking for hugs,” he said, closing the basement door.

“Well now I am! Besides, girls at school say you give the best hugs, so help me out with this.”

“I wondered why they always come up to me asking for hugs. That was really random,” TJ said. Spinelli whined, rocking on her feet with a mixture of a scowl and pout. “Alright, if it’ll help you feel better, I’ll give you a hug.”

“Thanks.” Spinelli dropped the pillow, tossing it out of the way. When he opened his arms, she came closer, wrapping her arms around him, and he did the same. She rested her head on his chest. With his arms around her holding her close to him, I was like the rest of the world melted away, along with everything she had to worry about, all gone with one comfy, protective, not too tight, not too loose hug. She blinked. “Oh my God.”

“What?”

“It’s totally true. You do give the best hugs,” she said. She pulled out of the hug, leaving him confused. She hugged him again. “It’s like I’m being cradled.”

“Haha, really? That’s nice to know.”

“TJ?”

“Yeah?”

“I wanna cuddle. You’re a good hugger and I don’t wanna stop hugging you,” she said looking up at him being all confused at her behavior.

“Are you always like this on your period?” he asked.

“Yes. Are you gonna lemme cuddle or not?” She asked, whining. “I wanna be comfy.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure. On the couch?” He asked. She nodded against his chest, and he took this as a signal to pick her up and bring her into the living room. Making sure the remote was in reaching distance, he laid on the couch on his back, with her on top of him.

They spent the rest of the afternoon like that, on the couch, watching mindless TV or flipping through the channels for something decent to watch. Spinelli rest her head on his chest, relaxing at the sound of his heartbeat. It was nice just being held like that without any sexual undertones. Unlike her ex-boyfriend who couldn’t keep his hands to himself, leading to their breakup.

How did he even get to date that guy in the first place? They were both into art, and he stayed after school somedays to work in the art room, like she did from time to time. He was cool for the most part. Not taking school and the drama that came with it too seriously, not getting wrapped in the world of cliques that had broken up their respective group of friends. A few conversations that carried into the next day and they were comfortable around each other, enough for him to ask her out.

Ah well. He wasn’t like what she thought he would be. And how long did relationships in high school last anyways? It wasn’t like they were gonna get married or anything. Who would marry that creep, anyways? Stupid jerk and his stupid smirk and that stupid dump gap in his front teeth and that stupid laugh. . .

“Woah, Spin. You okay?” TJ asked. Spinelli nodded, wiping the ears that swelled up in her eyes. She wasn’t about to cry right now. Nope. Nope. Nuh-uh.

“I’m fine,” she said, sobbing. She sat up, moving to the opposite end of the couch.

“It doesn’t look like it. What’s the matter?” He asked.

“It’s nothing. It’s stupid,” she said, wiping away her tears before they went past her eyes. “No, it’s not stupid. What’s stupid is that dumb stupid idiot ex-boyfriend of mine!”

“Jason?”

“Ugh! I can’t even stand the sound of his name! He ruined that name for me!” She said. “God, I could punch him right in his stupid fucking nose right about now! Fuck that guy! He doesn’t know what he’s missing out on anyways. . .I’m a great girlfriend!”

“I’m sure you are. Don’t worry, Spinelli. You’ll find a better boyfriend,” said TJ.

“And he’ll know to keep his hands to himself!” She said, smiling. “Thanks, TJ.”

“No problem,” he said. “You wanna pick what we watch?”

Spinelli nodded, and they returned to their previous position.

. . .

She didn’t know when she fell asleep, but when Spinelli woke up, she was being carried, bridal style, up the stairs and probably into bed, if the time she remembered dozing off was any clue. She was surprised that the movement needed to get her into this position didn’t wake her up, but as physically hurtful today was, she wasn’t going to question it. Just lay down and sleep, just like she was doing essentially the whole day. But it was the weekend, so whatever.

So she settled on resting her head on TJ’s shoulders. It was nice.

Knowing the path to his bedroom, she expected to turn right once they stopped climbing the stairs, but instead they took a left. Too tired to open her eyes and question why he was taking her to his sister’s old room, and just let him. She was placed in bed and left to sleep alone.

. . .

In the morning, Spinelli was greeted with the absence of gut stabbing pain that descended upon her the morning yesterday. While a dull pain was still there, she was functioning well enough to get out of bed and make her own breakfast and maybe do some homework. If she wanted to, and she didn’t.

She made her way downstairs, and spotted TJ sitting on the couch, eating a bowl of cereal while scrolling through his phone.

“Morning,” He greeted her. “How’d you sleep?”

“Good. I feel less like death,” she said, passing him on the way into the kitchen. She returned, joining him with a bowl of cereal of her own.

“Any plans for today?” TJ asked. Spinelli shrugged.

“I’m in the mood to draw. Maybe I’ll go across the street and pick up my sketchbook,” she said. “What about you?”

“Homework. Should probably take like an hour.”

“For which class?”

“Algebra II and biology. My best classes, so it’s just getting it out the way,” he said.

“You think you can help me with my math? I fucking suck at it but I’m not in the mood to fail the class,” Spinelli said.

“Yeah, sure, no problem,” he said. “How bad are your grades in math?”

“I’ll just say I just managed to pass my last test by one point,” said Spinelli.

“Oh, Spin. You should’ve come to me for help sooner before it got _that_ bad. . .”

“Don’t blame me! The teacher doesn’t even teach how to do it, she just puts the problem up on the bored and does it without explaining anything! How’s anybody supposed to learn like that?” She asked. “We’d all do better if were learned on our own than from that.”

“Wow. I’m glad I never had that teacher,” he chuckled. “Ever thought about going to Gretchen for help? She’s part of the whole peer tutoring program thing.”

“Nah. It’d be awkward. You know we don’t hang out anymore, Teej. It’d be weird,” she said. “Besides, I have you to help me out. Matter of fact, why aren’t you part of that?”

“I’m already doing a bunch of other stuff. If I did that I wouldn’t have time to relax,” he said.

“Like what?”

“Debate club, volunteering down at the animal shelter, working part-time at the mall, sometimes they call me in to help out at my synagogue, _and_ keeping my grades up. I don’t have time for something like that. Especially something that takes up as much time as that.”

“Geez, compared to that, I barely do anything at all,” said Spinelli. “But with all that, yeah I wouldn’t add anything else. But I’ll go and get my stuff.” She stood up, handing him her bowl as he walked into the kitchen.

Heading out, she took her gym bag along with her. Might as well, she figured, since she was stopping home anyways. The driveway to her house was still as empty as the day before. He parents would probably be back by tonight to give her aunt and uncle time with their new baby. She pulled out her house keys and unlocked the front door.

In her room, she dropped the bag near the pile of laundry that needed to be done and scanned the room for what she needed. Grabbing a tote bag, she grabbed her sketchbook, math textbook, notebook, a couple pencils off her desk. Feeling a little guilty about the state of her room, she sorted her laundry and tossed a load in before headed back over TJ’s house.

Returning, she found him in the kitchen with his notebook and textbook already pulled out and ready to go.

“I’m letting you know, I’m a slow learner at this. So be patient, alright?” She said as she sat at the table.

“Yeah, sure. We’ve got all day,” TJ said. “Just show me where you’re having trouble.”

. . .

How anyone made it past her current math class was a complete mystery to Spinelli. Just understanding what the hell the chapter title meant was challenge enough. Still, there were students who passed and moved on to Algebra II, Trig, Pre-Cal, Cal, and honestly? Anyone who went past Trig needed to have some sense into them. Especially if they did it for fun because who would think about going past what was necessary? Unless they were sadists.

It was enough that they added letters to math, but now they wanted to add “imaginary” shit. Weren’t the letters supposed to be the imaginary part?

“. . .Since ‘i’ is the square root rot of negative one, ‘i’ times ‘i’ equals negative -1. So if you see the square root of a negative number, you find it just like it was a positive number, but with an ‘i’ next to it. Like the square root of -9 would be 3i. Complex numbers are a step up from that, adding more real numbers. It’s in the form of a+bi, and a and b are the real numbers, like 5+6i, the real numbers would be the 5 and the 6.”

Spinelli had stopped processing what TJ was trying to explain to her a while ago. Poor guy was really into trying to explain this junk to her that she didn’t have to heart to stop him. He was a good teacher, she’d admit, and it wasn’t for a lack of detailed explanation, just lack of attention on her part.

“He’d make a good teacher one day,” she thought. He had to find a way to keep people interested though. She was interested in what he was saying, but, as his friend, she had a huge bias. It reminded her of Mr. Dude back in elementary on his first day. He ended up fixing that and taught at the elementary school now.

But it was nice listening to his voice. It was easy on the ears, and overall soothing, almost making her forget about her nearly failing grade. Hmm.

…

Nope.

Nope.

Uhh-uhh.

No.

Abort mission.

Abandon ship.

She buried those feelings right before seventh grade and she’s be damned if they sprouted up again goddammit. Nope, no way, not gonna happen. Nope. Nah. If she had to stomp them down with her boots again, then that’s what the fuck she was going to do because she was not gonna fall for this guy again with his _laugh_ and his _back muscles_ and his _freckles_ (seriously fuck those freckles) and his _genuinely nice personality._ Fuck this guy and fuck _feelings_.

“Are you getting this, Spin?” TJ asked her.

“. . .No, sorry,” She said. “It’s not that you didn’t make sense, I just zoned out.”

“Ah, okay. See this is why I wouldn’t make a good tutor,” he joked. “Where’d you zone out at?”

“Around factoring.”

“That’s. . .a long time. Alright, factoring,” he said. He flipped all the way back to the beginning of one of his old notebooks. “Factoring. First you have to find a number that all the variables have in common. Like in 2x^3+8x^2-4x, you can take a 2x out of each of those. . .”

. . .

By the end of their tutoring session, Spinelli could say to things. One, she had a better grasps of the concepts she was expected to understand in her math class. TJ, _with his oh so generous self,_ let her borrow his old notebook from last year when he took the class. The guy must be brave if he was taking a class ahead of his year.

Second was that old feelings were starting to spring back up like ugly little weeds out of the ground of a carefully manicured lawn that she made sure nothing like this could sprout it’s ugly little head. She made a mental note to find extra time to go down to the gym and beat the shit out of a punching bag.

Laying on the couch, she drew away in her sketchbook, occasionally taking a handful of gummi bears and stuffing them into her mouth. She was going to get this out of her mind if it was the last thing she did today. Drawing always helped her get lost in her thoughts and forget what she was upset about. Her art won a couple of competitions, she entered, or at least placed within the runner ups. So hey, if it helped her control her anger and won her competitions, then there was no harm in continuing doing it.

“Hey is that me?”

Spinelli glanced at TJ behind her before looking at what she was mindlessly sketching. It was in fact, a rough portrait of TJ.

God _DAMMIT._

“No. No it’s not you,” she mumbled. She huffed and rolled her eyes and she roughly turned to a clean page.

“You sure? It looks like me,” he said.

“ _Yes,_ I’m sure,” she said. “What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing much. Just checking up on you,” TJ said. “I’m about to go get a haircut. Didn’t wanna just up and leave without you knowing why you’re in my house by yourself.”

“Wait, a haircut? I’m coming, too!” She said, closing her sketchbook. “I’ve been meaning to get my hair cut for months now.”

“What, you don’t like it long?”

“Nope. It’s always in the way, and I always pin it up anyways, so I might as well have it short,” she said. “My moms gonna flip but I figure if it get it done in something that looks nice it’ll lessen the blow.”

. . .

As much as she was willing to have her hair cut, there was still that slight anxious feeling that came with a pair of clippers snipping away at her hair that made Spinelli close her eyes. She could feel the weight of her hair becoming lighter along with the sound of scissor clipping near her ears. As soon as she said she wanted a haircut, they bombarded her with styles varying from medium length to short to very short, all that worked with her face and eye shape before settling on one she liked and wouldn’t get her lectured.

“This is going to look so good on you,” her stylist, Tori said. The direction of her voice shifted as she moved in front of her. “I’m just going to shape you bangs and then you’ll look gorgeous.”

“If you say so.”

“I would kill for hair as long and thick as yours was! I just had to double check when you said you wanted it cut. But it’s like that sometimes,” Tori said. “Your boyfriend is gonna think you’re so cute.”

“Boyfriend?” She asked, peeking.

“Mmm-hmm. The boy you came in with,” said Tori.

“Oh, he’s not my boyfriend. . .”

“Hmm, that’s too bad. You two would make a great looking couple. Short, but great looking.”

“Thanks, I guess.”

“Alright, I’m done,” Tori said after he last few snips. She handed Spinelli a hand mirror. “Have a look.”

Opening her eyes, Spinelli was happy to see that her long, bothersome hair was finally gone and replaced with a much shorter and easy to manage pixie cut, perfectly framing her face and matching her features. Now if her mom had a problem with this, then she had a problem because this looked damn great on her.

“You like?”

“I sure do,” said Spinelli. She handed the mirror back. “Am I going to like the price?”

“Probably not.”

She groaned, but reached to her pocket on her way to the front to meet up with TJ, who had been done for a while. It came up to 50 bucks, while she didn’t like, but had to fork over with some reluctance. Welp, it wasn’t going to be free, and she couldn’t do it herself.

“Wow, Spin. You look a lot different with your hair that short,” said TJ as they headed out.

“That’s what I was aiming for, Teej,” she said, playfully nudging him. “You didn’t get anything different.”

“It was mostly a trim,” he said. “You look cute.”

“. . .Thanks.” She turned away, willing away her rising blush. It was a sweet compliment that she could easily take as meaning something more. But TJ, the poor guy, as sweet as he was, was so damn _dense_ when it came to girls, that she knew better than to assume anything deeper than a complement between friends.

She remember one time, in excruciating detail, how that Ashley A. came up to him one day and shamelessly flirted with him, right in front of her. It did make her happy that TJ just talked to her like any other day, seemingly oblivious to Ashley A’s advances. That was funny to watch, but she did feel just a little bad for Ashley A. She had an unrequited crush on the guy, too and it fucking sucks.

. . .

Arriving home, Spinelli spotted her parents car in the driveway. Finally back from visiting her aunt. Her mom probably couldn’t wait to talk to her about the new baby and gush about how cute Grace was. Oh well. Might as well get that over with.

“I think I should head home, before my mom starts calling me to ask where I am,” Spinelli said. “But it was nice spending the weekend with you, Teej.”

“Yeah it was nice hanging out like this. We should do this more often,” he said.

After grabbing my stuff and saying goodbye, she headed towards her own house. She braced herself before going inside for her moms reaction. Her dad would, more than likely, be alright for the change. Her mom, however, the woman has be adamant about her becoming more feminine, and this was one more nail in the coffin for that goal.

She had to face that reaction sometime; she couldn’t hold it off forever. Opening the door, she followed the sound of her mothers voice into the kitchen.

“Hey mom, dad. I’m back,” she said.

“Oh, hi dear! Come and see these pictures of your new little cousi—“ Her mother was cut short when she turned to look at her. She dropped her phone and gasped. “What in the world did you do to your hair, Ashley?” She nearly shouted as she stood out of her seat.

“I, uh, cut it,” Spinelli tried. “Do you like it?”

“Why in the world would you cut your long beautiful hair?” He mother cried.

“It was getting in the way. And I always had it in a ponytail anyway,” she tried to reason. “It might as well stay short.”

“Well. . .” he mother sighed, calming down from her initial reaction. She stepped back, taking another look at her daughter with this new haircut. “It _does_ nicely frame your face. That style is _in_ right now. And it’s not like I can glue your hair back on your head.”

“Thanks, mom!” She hugged her mother. Leaving her bag of junk food in the kitchen, she headed upstairs.


	3. Chapter 3

The Ball is in Your Court

The word 'awkward' wasn't one that Vince LaSalle would use to describe himself very often, if at all. It was completely uncharacteristic for the school's ace athlete, who carried himself with unwavering confidence and pride, to succumb to awkwardness or nervousness. And why should he, in all honestly? Anyone in his position would always hold their head high, or at least he assumed they would. He couldn't speak for everybody, just himself.

But right now, he was becoming very acquainted with the feeling of awkwardness and nervousness, as he sat in the office of his coach after informing him of the worrisome actions of another member of the team. He debated telling anyone at all, first going into a sense of denial when he came in the locker room and saw what he did. He wasn't the guy's parents and couldn't tell him what to do with his life. It wearing on his mind though.

Roy, the guy he saw, wasn't calm on his own. He was kind of loose cannon, and Vince would rather not be on the court with him at the same time. It was a miracle that he wasn't kicked of the team by now. He barely followed the strategies that they spent hour after hour, day after day getting down perfectly. The guy wasn't worth whatever benefit the coach saw in having him on the team, in his opinion.

But adding steroids on top of person who was already a ball of rage didn't bode well. Any day now he was going to rage out, if he hadn't already that is, and, as the team captain, he had to take responsibility for the other members of his team. Which led him to his current situation.

He sat in the office, alone, waiting for Coach Johnson to come back with Roy in toe. He heard the intercom requesting Roy to come out of class a few moments ago. Now he was just waiting for the two of them to come in. Should've brought some sort of protection. The dude had a nasty punch, he'd admit.

He heard footsteps getting closer before the doorknob turned, and the coach and Roy stepped in. Roy sat in the seat next to his, while Couch Johnson sat at his desk. Did he really have to be here for this?

"So what's the issue, Coach?" Roy asked, slouching in his chair. It made him look even stockier than he already was. "What'd you call me out of class for? I'm not complaining, I'm just curious."

"Something important has been brought to my attention," Coach Johnson said. "Is there something you want to tell me, Roy?"

"Uh, no. Everything fine," Roy said. He readjusted his position in his seat, a well-known give away that he was lying and/or hiding something.

"You sure about that? I don't want to have to pull this out of you," the coach warned him. Roy glanced over at Vince, clearly suspecting something what going on.

"Yeah? I'm sure," Roy said. "What's going on?"

"Alright, I get right to it since its Friday and I want to get home," said the coach. "Have you been using steroids?"

"W-What?! No, no! I'm not using steroids!" Roy said. He shifted in his seat and avoid eye contact with the coach.

"I was hoping you wouldn't lie to me," said the coach. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a tiny glass bottle. He placed it on the table. Anyone who glanced at it couldn't mistake what it was. "I found this in your locker."

"It's not mine!" Roy denied. "Someone put it in my locker to frame me!"

"Roy—"

"No! Who told you that was mine? _Him?_ " Roy's voice rose as his movements became more violent. He pointed and Vince, who leaned away from him as he began to go on a rage. "He's probably the one who put in my locker! Of course he would; I _carry_ this team! He just wants me out of the way!"

"Calm down—"

"No, no! This is such bullshit! I didn't do anything!" Roy said. His voice continued to rise as he leaned forward, then stood up. "And the only reason I'm in here is because you're listening to some bullshit _captain_ over me!"

As he continued is rant, coach Johnson signaled Vince that he could leave. Wanting nothing more to do with this, he took the opportunity and left. The second coach, coach McKol, entered as he left the office.

. . .

Walking past the gym, it was hard to ignore the repeated cheers of the cheerleaders as they practiced one of their many routines for probably to twentieth time. Usually he would stop by and wait for Ashley B. to finish and they'd go somewhere after together, usually to hang out with the other jocks and cheerleaders, but that came to an abrupt halt as of late.

He didn't care much to get the specifics, or even talk about what happened, but rumors were spread, believed, spread some more, and their relationship was left in tatters. It hurt, yeah, since they had dated for over a year, but it was getting better, for the most part. They were still young, right? High school dating wasn't that serious.

It felt like it sometimes, though.

. . .

Despite the hell Roy and his goons where sure to give him for outing his steroid use, Vince left the school knowing that he ultimately did the right thing, though it didn't quite felt like it. He had to do it, being the team captain and everything, but he was thinking he should've left an anonymous note or something to avoid having to directly deal with Roy.

But it was Friday, and the whole incident left him tired. Rather than hangout with the guys on his teams, like usual, he opted for relaxing at home for once, maybe even going to bed early. Sleep wasn't something that he had much time for these days. Arriving home, he dropped his book bag and gym bag near the front door. He had to do laundry anyways, no use bringing it upstairs if he was just going to bring it back down in a couple of hours. After shutting the door, he heard talking coming from the kitchen.

It wasn't unusual for his mother to have the neighbors over, though he never bothered to listen to whatever conversation they were having. This time, though, the voice sounded somewhat familiar. He stepped into the kitchen to find something to eat, when he was greeted with the sight of his mother and cousin, Sharron, sitting at the kitchen table, happily chatting away. On the table, Sharron's baby girl, Amber, who he remembered his mother gushing about on a regular basis, rested in a car seat.

"Hey, mom. Hey, Sharron," Vince said as he passed them for the refrigerator. As much as his parents half joked about him eating them out of house and home, if it took him eating three apples to keep him until dinner then so be it.

"Hey, Vince! Get over here and give me a hug!" Sharron said. After grabbing the apples, her closed the fridge and was grabbed up in a hug by his cousin. "You got so big!"

"Thanks, I guess? What's going on with you?" He asked.

"I'm just visiting, you know. Getting out of the house for once after Gabrielle was born," Sharron said. "Speaking of which, I have a favor to ask."

"Yeah?" He asked. They pulled out their hug. Seeing as how the conversation wasn't going to end soon, he leaned against the nearby counter. "What is it?"

"Since this is the first time I was able to get out of the house for a while, your mother invited me out to dinner tonight, but that leaves me strapped to find a babysitter. At that's where you come in," Sharron said. "Do you mind watching Amber tonight?"

"Tonight? But I'm trying to relax tonigh—" He whining was cut short by his mother's warning glare. "Sure, I'd be happy to."

"Thanks! Don't worry, I'll give you a little money for helping me out," Sharron said.

"Oh, you don't have to do that. Vince is happy to do it for free," his mother said. He held his tongue from saying something to protest and barely held himself back from rolling his eyes. Babysitting definitely wasn't on his plan of things to do tonight, but getting paid would have made the intrusion worth it. But he could exactly say no, especially with his mother in the room. Hell, his father would've been just as strict about it.

It couldn't be so bad, right?

"We won't be leaving until 6:30, so if you need to do anything before then, you better get it done now," his mother warned. Right. He could take a nap between now and then. He nodded, and tossed the core of one of the apples away as he left the kitchen.

His room wasn't that messy, compared to what he's seen of others on his team. Yeah, there were a few things on the floor here and there, but none of it was trash or dishes, so it wasn't as bad as his parents made it out to be. Stepping over a small pile of clothes, he made his way over to his bed, next to the small shelf holding a number of trophies that he had won over the years.

He could get a good few hours of sleep before having to babysit. He kicked of his shoes and tossed his jacket across the chair at his desk. He finished off the rest of the apples before tossing the cores in the trash can and dozing off.

. . .

"Now I've fed her a few hours ago, so when she wakes up, she'll probably be hungry. There's a few bottles in the fridge, and all you have to do it warm them up and make sure it's not too hot. And there's plenty of diapers in the bag, and extra clothes, just in case."

"I got it, I got it," Vince said, reassuring his cousin. Amber slept peacefully in her carrier, the opposite of her fussing mother. "It can't be that hard, right?"

". . .Right," Sharron said. "Look, just call me if anything bad happens, alright?"

"Alright," he said.

"We should be back a couple of hours. Don't get into any trouble," his father said, giving him a stern look.

"I'm not," he said, putting his hands up in mock defense. "Mess up once and suddenly I can't do anything."

"That's what happens when you try to throw a party when we're gone, sweetheart," said his mother. "Be good."

After the door shut when they left, Vince settled on the couch, and slouched. For a moment, he considered turning on the TV, but he decided that the risk of waking up Amber and her crying wasn't worth the risk. He settled for unlocking his phone and scrolling through his various social media accounts to see what everyone else was up to tonight.

Parties, as per usual. He groan. He enjoyed going to them as much as the next person, but recently they've all been sort of meshing together, indistinguishable from one week to another. Were they having and going to them because they enjoyed them or because they felt that it was just what high schoolers did? Either way, he didn't feel like going and doing the same old, same old. Talk a little, drink a lot, and maybe or maybe not sleep with some girl. It was getting old fast.

Cringing at a picture someone posted of Ashley B. with her new boyfriend. It sure as hell didn't take her a long time to get over things, did it? He rolled his eyes and continued.

Getting wrapped up in his phones, Vince didn't notice how much time had passed when he heard the faint sound of a baby cooing. He looked down, and Amber was fighting her way to wakefulness as all babies do. He watched her ball her tiny fists and curl her toes as she peeked open one eye and closed it just as she looked at him.

"Oh, so you'd rather be asleep than see my face, huh?" Vince joked. He watched her until she was able to open her eyes and stay awake. "Nice to see you, too."

Amber promptly responded by frowning and beginning to whimper.

"No. . .no, no, no. Don't do that," he said, cringing and hoping that she would stop. She didn't, and soon enough, she was crying. "Of course."

He picked her up out of her carrier while trying to figure out what was the matter. Sharron did say that she might be hungry, so he headed right for the fridge. While he waited for the bottle to warm up in the boiling water, he tried is best to calm and soothe her, but it only seem to make her cry harder and grasp onto his shirt.

On the off chance that Amber wasn't crying because she was hungry, he searched through the diaper bag Sharron left with him. First thing her found was a binky, amongst many. He picked on and stuck it in her mouth, and at first it seemed to work. Her crying stopped and his ears was given a break. But that only last for a moment before she spat it out and continued.

"You must really be hungry," he said, checking the temperature of the milk. Deciding it was fine, he stuck the bottle in her mouth expecting it to work. He settled back on the couch, diaper bag and all.

He impressed how fast she downed the bottle. A baby's stomach couldn't have been too big, so to watch the milk go down at a fast and steady pace somewhat concerned him, but she wasn't reacting in any sort of pain, so it was safe to say that nothing was wrong. He hoped. He wasn't an expert on babies, only knowing enough to be qualified to babysit, apparently. And he doubted that.

He positioned Amber to burp her, but she was more settled on squirming and fussing the whole time. Her crying picked back up, even louder this time, and he considered calling Sharron for help. But he, Vince LaSalle, wasn't one to give up so easily, even with a baby screaming in his ears.

. . .

Approximately 30 minutes later, Vince found that throwing in the towel wasn't always a bad idea.

"Okay, but have you tried _not_ crying?" He halfheartedly asked the baby as he bounced her on knee. For a moment, he thought about calling Sharron for help, but decided not to. When he saw her earlier, the bags under her eyes were clear as day, and she needed a break. Especially now that he had a taste of what she had dealt with. But with that in mind, he still needed some help. So who to call?

That was actually kind of an easy question to ask. He picked up his phone.

 _"Hello?"_ he heard TJ ask on the other end.

"Hey, Teej! You doing anything tonight?" Vince asked. He stepped in the kitchen, leaving Amber in her car seat in the living room.

_". . . Depends. Right now I'm not—"_

"Great! So can you come over?"

_"Why. . .?"_

"Just c'mon over. It's been a whole since we hung out, right?"

_"Yeah, but I don't see why you're calling me all of a sudden. . . Is something the matter, Vince?"_

"What? No, no! I just wanna hangout with one of my oldest friends, that's all."

He listened for a response, half expecting to be brushed off. Instead, he heard a tired sigh.

_"Alright, fine. Fine. I'll be over in like. . .ten minutes. Okay?"_

"Good! See you then."

Ending the call, he felt relieved enough to plop down on the couch and slouch back into the seat. He picked Amber back up again and continued his attempted at soothing the baby, but to no avail. The best he could do was get her down to whimpering for a few moments before picking right back up.

Ten minutes didn't pass fast enough, and when the doorbell rang, he carried Amber to the door and opened. TJ outside the door, his backpack slung over his shoulder, looking a little too tired to be there. But he was, and Vince highly appreciated it.

"Okay, so what—" TJ started at the sight of the crying baby. Vince cut him off.

"You babysit sometimes, so you're good with babies right? I need your help," said Vince. "I've tried everything and nothings worked!"

He watched TJ looked back and forth between him and Amber before closing his eyes for a second, and taking a deep breath.

"Gimme," he said, reaching out for Amber. Vince handed her over as he came in the house. "Where's the diaper bag?"

"On the couch," said Vince. "Thanks for coming over, dude."

"Mm-hmm," TJ said. Sitting on the couch, he searched through the bag while balancing Amber on his leg. "When'd you feed her?"

"About 45 minutes ago. It stopped her crying for a minute, but after she ate, she just started crying again," Vince said.

"Did you change her?" he asked. TJ didn't wait for an answer, undoing the button to her onesie. He looked in the back of her diaper. "She's clean. For now anyways. . .is she teething? Can you look in the fridge for a teething ring?"

Nodding, Vince went to the kitchen and looking the freezer. Two teething rings were sitting inside, and he starting to feel like an idiot. But how was he supposed to know she was teething? He returned to the couch with one and handed it over to TJ, who promptly stuck it in her mouth, stopping her crying almost instantly.

"Was that it? If they'd told me she was teething I could've done that myself," Vince said, joining him on the couch. "You weren't sleeping when I called, were you?"

"Ha, I haven't slept since last night. Had to pull an all-nighter for a test, then I got a message to come help set up for some kids bat mitzvah after school. . .I was on my way home when you called," said TJ. "It's fine, though. So what's her name and how'd you get stuck babysitting?"

"Her names Amber, and she's my cousins baby. My parents took her out for dinner, so here I am," said Vince. "I don't mind doing it, but I didn't expect her to cry so much."

"Oh. Well, it's not that bad. Look at her; she's adorable," he said. Poking her cheek, Amber smiled and let out a small giggle. "Look at those cheeks. She looks like a cabbage patch doll. You got any food? I'm starving."

"There's not much, but there's enough to make a pretty big sandwich," he said.

"Can you make me one? I'd do it myself but I'm entertaining a baby," said TJ. "And you wouldn't want her to start crying again, would you?"

With little room to argue, Vince found himself putting together a sandwich for the both of them, but any remanence of frustration went away with the sound of Amber's cooing and not crying.

"No, nope. This is my food," TJ said as Amber reached for his sandwich. "You can't even eat this yet. One day, but not today."

"I owe you one for this," said Vince.

"You sure do. I'll probably forget about it by tomorrow, though," he said. "So what's going on with you? You looked kind of off during your last game."

"Shit, you noticed?"

"Everyone noticed. It was kind of hard not to. The best player on the court who always makes at least half the score barely making one is hard to not notice," said TJ.

"It's this one asshole on the team. I found out he was doing steroids, so I had to tell the coach about it," Vince said. He finished his sandwich and placed the plate on the coffee table. "Looking back on it, it explains a lot."

"Geez, steroids?"

"Yep. The guy always looked like he was gonna blow, so now I know why," he said. "Now he's off the team. I dunno what'll happen after that. But this comes with being a captain. It'd help if I had a friend I was comfortable with on the team."

"I'm not joining the basketball team, Vince."

"C'mon, why not? There's no one on that team that I trust, and you're not doing anything else!"

"Trust me. I'm _really_ busy," TJ said, readjusting Amber in his lap. "Why don't you trust anyone on your team? You're around them every day, aren't you?"

"That doesn't mean I like them. There's so full of themselves. I'll hang out with them, but I don't trust them at all," said Vince. "You'd think there be a few I could trust. At least I'm not on the football team. It's worse."

Amber's soft cooing grabbed their attention, as her head leaned against TJ's chest. She blinked slowly, and the teething ring fell out to her grasp.

"She's finally going to sleep," Vince said.

"Nope. She's not sleepy at all," said TJ. As if on cue, she blinked, determined to stay awake. Her expression changed from tired, to mad, as she started to whine.

"Please don't cry again," Vince groaned. Amber continued, balling her tiny fists. She never made it to the point of crying, just grunts that someone would associate with pain. Or being fussy. But Vince didn't like either one.

"Relax. She's just pooping," said TJ. "I've babysat enough to know this face. You know how to change a diaper, right?"

". . . Sure."

"You don't."

"I do! In theory."

"This sounds like something you should've told your cousin before they left for a few _hours_ ," he said. "You're helping."

#

The whole event in changing Amber's diaper was longer than it needed to be, in both boys opinion. Trying to keep a squirmy 5 month still enough to clean her proved to be a challenge. A challenge, but not one either of them had to the option to back out of.

"She's small. How-?"

"Babies are mysterious creatures, Vince."

"Right."

"Vince."

"Huh?"

"She's a girl. You wipe front to back."

"Got it."

"Don't forget the butt paste."

". . .What?"

"I found it in the diaper bag. You use it when you see a diaper rash coming on. Her butts kinda red. Use it."

"O-okay."

"More than that."

"Why aren't you doing this, then? You know a lot more than I do!"

"I got her to stop crying, alright? You can do this."

"Apparently you don't think so."

"Yes I do. I'm just here for moral support."

"Uh-huh."

"Don't forget the baby powder."

"I know _that_ much, geez."

Once it was over, Amber was a happy baby, crawling on the floor with a nice clean diaper on her butt. While she crawled and played with a number of toys pulled out of the diaper bag while they settled back on the couch. There wasn't much conversation taking place, with Vince on his phone, occasionally looking to check on Amber, and TJ, who decided to get a head start on his homework, since he wasn't going to get any sleep any time soon.

The only sound that interrupted their silence was Ambers cooing or the notifications on their phones.

"Hey Vince?" TJ asked. He looked up from his phone that had been going off multiple times a minute.

"Huh?"

"What's going on with you and Ashley Q.?" He asked.

"Oh my God. _You've_ been listening to that, too?" Vince groaned.

"At school, no. Over one of the Ashley's houses, yeah," said TJ. He closed his textbook and placed it back in his bag. "And now. They're texting me."

". . .Why are you over their houses?"

"They ask me to be," he said.

"Why?"

"Usually for sleepovers."

". . . _Why?"_

"I dunno. I don't really stay for longer than an hour. And their moms don't mind. I think Ashley A.'s mom wants us to get married," he said. "But don't change the subject. What's with you and Ashley Q.?"

"The hell if I know," said Vince. He tossed his phone aside, and leaned against the arm of the couch. "I was out sick the week everything happened, so I have no idea. When I came back I was out of a girlfriend."

"Oh."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. The way she's saying sounds like you did something on purpose," TJ said. "She said that you said to somebody that all the more popular kids were stuck up and full of themselves and I guess that that got spun around to you thinking you were better than everyone else? I dunno. I don't get involved in stuff like that."

"Then why even bother _listening_?" Vince moaned. He huffed, and if he didn't feel tired before, he felt like he could sleep for a couple of days. School drama; something he didn't want to get sucked into. Life was just fine without all of that mess. Why did people have to make things so complicated?

"They like rambling to me about stuff like this. So is that why you two broke up?" TJ asked. Amber tugging at his pant leg caught his attention and he scooped her up into his arms.

"Uh-huh. I think she took at as me thinking I was better than her. Based on what you've just told me," said Vince. "I don't feel like talking about this, Teej. It gives me a headache after five minutes just thinking about it."

"Okay. I was just curious. Anybody who paid attention could tell you really liked her," he said.

". . .Yeah. But we're in high school. It wasn't like we were going to get married or anything," Vince said. The phone ringing cut into their conversation. He left the two of them on the couch to answer the phone in the kitchen. "Hello?"

"Hey, Vince. I'm just calling in to check on things," Sharron said on the other end. "Is everything going okay?"

"Yep. Everything just fine," he said. "Nothing to worry about."

"That's good. I know Amber can be a handful sometimes," she said. "If everything's going fine, then I'll get back to your parents. The almost didn't want me to check up on you two. See you in a few hours."

Returning to the living room, he grabbed the TV remote and started looking for something to watch.

"Who was that?"

"My cousin, Amber's mom," Vince said. "Just calling in to check up on her. I feel like watching a movie. I dunno what's on though. Probably nothing good."

"Look for something colorful. It'll get her attention," said TJ. "Maybe Toy Story or something."

"Shit, we have that on DVD."

. . . .

Somewhere between scenes, Vince had dozed off, complete with the line of drool down his chin as he slouched on the couch. Wiping her chin, he cleared his throat and looked around him. The movie had returned to the menu screen, repeating the same animations and music until someone came along and either selected something or turned the DVD player off. When feeling around for the remote, he noticed that he was alone in the living room. Turning off the DVD player and TV, he stood up and looked in the kitchen, nothing.

"Where'd he go?" He asked himself. He turned, and headed upstairs and towards his room, the only other place he thought TJ would go to. As he reached his door, he heard Amber's whimpering along with what sounded like some sort of lullaby? He wasn't sure but it definitely sounded like some sort of light sing-song-y voice. Curious, he avoided the creaky parts of the floorboards to reach the door to his room and listened closely.

" _Ich fange für dich die Wolken,  
dass die Sonne immer strahlt._

_Ich werde sie überreden,  
sie soll es in den Himmel malen._

_Für dich stehle ich die Uhren,  
halt die Zeiger alle fest._

_Die Zeit soll nie vergehen,  
damit du immer bei mir bist."_

He covered his mouth as he held back a snicker. Hearing TJ sing some sort of German lullaby wasn't something he expected to encounter tonight. Or ever, really.

It was. . .weird to say the least.

The door to his room creaked as he opened it. He was met with the sight of TJ sitting on his bed, holding Amber as he tried to get her to fall asleep, though she was fighting it with all the stubbornness and determination of a five month old. It was just only beginning to work by the looks of it. TJ looked up as he entered.

"Hey, whats up?" He asked, entering.

"Just trying to get her to fall asleep," said TJ. "She really doesn't want to. I mean I've babysat more stubborn babies, but still."

"So you thought a lullaby would help?" Vince asked jokingly. TJ responded by looking away and blushing from embarrassment.

"You heard that, huh?" He asked. "It was all I could think of to help her sleep. It usually works."

"It's fine. I'd do the same if I knew any lullabies," said Vince. He couldn't help but let out a smirk that time.

"Stop laughing at me."

"I'm not laughing. I'm really not," he said, calming himself down. He sat on the floor next to his bed, leaning against it. "Go ahead. Keep singing it, if it'll get her to sleep."

". . .Why, so you can make jokes?"

"I'm serious. I'm not gonna laugh,' said Vince. He grabbed the charger to his phone and plugged it. "Go ahead. Keep singing her to sleep."

There was pause as TJ judged whether or not to continue. But given how tired they both were, he was going to do anything to get Amber to sleep.

" _Ich hab dich lieb, bin so froh dass es dich gibt,_

_in der großen weiten Welt gibt's nur dich für mich._

_Ich hab dich lieb, bin so froh dass es dich gibt,_

_ich bin immer für dich da, du bist mein Star."_

All jokes aside it wasn't a bad sounding song at all. The laughing came more from surprise that the actual song itself. Sure Vince didn't know what the fuck he was saying or anything (though he could ask), but he could see how a baby or little kid could fall asleep to it. Hell, he was starting to doze off again. Ha.

. . .

. . .Was it weird to enjoy the sound of another guys voice?

Hearing the learned sound of the front door being the unlocked and opened, definitely knocked the sleep out of him. He stood up and stretched, ready to hand Amber back over to her mother. The two headed downstairs where his parents and cousin were taking their jackets off.

"Hey, how was dinner?" Vince asked as he came down.

"It was good. But the food could've been better," his mother said. After his father took her jacket, she looked at him, then behind him. "TJ, what are you doing here?"

"Vince asked me to come over, ma'am. He needed some help with Amber so I came over," said TJ.

"Oh no. She wasn't much trouble was she?" Sharron asked.

"No. I babysit a lot so I was used to it."

"Still, I should pay you _something._ "

"How come he gets paid and I don't?" Vince asked.

"Because _he_ wasn't the one that we asked to babysit," his father said as he closed the front closet. "You were."

"I needed a little help and TJ babysits a lot so I asked him to come over," he said. "It wasn't just anybody."

"Hey, Vince. I'm going out to get a burger. You wanna come?" TJ asked when he came back into the front hall, without Amber in hand. Vince looked to his parents for an answer. They were already sort of upset at him, and he didn't want to push it. A burger did sound good though. Yeah he should be trying to stay away from junk food to stay on top of him game but what harm could one greasy burger do?

"Alright, go. But don't stay out late," his mother said.

"Thanks, mom."

. . .

"So how much did she pay you?"

They walked down to one of the more popular fast food places, not too far down the street from Kelso's. Not too far to walk or call for a bus ride, but not too close to make the walk not worth it in favor of staying and cooking something at home.

"50 dollars," TJ said.

"Oh, so you're paying then?" Vince asked.

"Yeah? I thought it was implied. I asked," he said.

"Good, 'cause I can _eat_ right now," said Vince as they arrived.

The place wasn't empty but it wasn't brimming with people like it usually did after school either. With the classic diner layout, it was old appealing to both those who liked the feel of nostalgia or the aesthetic. They recognized a few people from their school eating and minding their own business. Unfortunately that included the Ashley's in one of the booths sipping on milkshakes.

"Really didn't feel like seeing them today," Vince said as they sat at the counter.

"Huh? Oh the Ashley's?" TJ asked. "You wanna go somewhere else?"

"Nah. We're already here, and I don't feel like going to the next place," he said.

"Hey, what can I get for the two of you?" The waitress, her name tag read Erica, asked.

"I'll just have a deluxe burger with everything on it," Vince asked.

"I'll have the same," TJ said, not bothering to look at the menu. "Hey, Vince?"

"Huh?"

"I know you and Ashley Q. broke up on a bad note and everything, and the chances of you two getting back together are almost nothing, but if you could say something to clear things up, would you?"

"I guess so. Why?"

"Just curious. You seem like the kind of guy who'd be bothered by something like that," said TJ. "I think you should go talk to her."

"Why now?" Vince groaned. "I'm just trying to eat, Teej."

"No time like the present," he said. "I'll be right back."

Vince huffed and put his elbow on the counter, resting his head in his hand as TJ stood up and walked to the booth where the Ashley's sat. Him clearing things up with Ashley Q. wasn't on his list of things to do tonight, or anytime soon. But definitely not tonight. But what the hell, right? He was doing a lot of things he didn't expect to do tonight, anyways. Oh well. It couldn't end too bad, right? Besides, TJ was the only person her trusted with this sort of thing. Or much at all.

. . .Huh.

"Alright, she says she'll talk to you," TJ said when he came back over. Ashley Q. came with him, with her arms folded and pouting a bit.

"Right. Okay," Vince said. "Um, outside? I don't want things to escalate in here."

"Fine," Ashley Q. said. She followed him outside and out of sight of anyone who might watch through the front window. "So? What is it?"

"I need to talk about these rumors that's been going around," he said.

"Oh, so now you want to talk? You didn't want to talk a month ago!" She said.

"You wouldn't let me get a word in!" He said. "Listen, I don't know who started those rumors but it wasn't me! I never said I was better than anyone, and I don't think I am! I never said anything like that."

She folded her arms again and adjusted her weight onto her other foot as she looked at him, judging whether or not to believe him.

"Look, the closest thing I could have possibility said that even comes close to that it that is that I have trouble trusting people," he said.

"So you didn't trust me?!"

"Yes! I trusted you! You're one of the few people at school that I trust. Or trusted at all," he said. "I don't care enough to start this kind of drama, alright? I just wanted you to know that I never said what everyone else is saying I said."

"Alright," she said with a huff. "Fine, whatever. Are we done now?"

Without waiting for an answer, she turned on her heels and went back inside. It almost felt like talking to her wasn't worth it at all. Still, he felt a little better afterwards, now that he added his own words, and there wasn't much more he could do about what others were going to think. They were going to think whatever they wanted to. Whether or not they believed him was their problem.

"How'd it go?" TJ asked when he returned.

"It went," said Vince. He tossed a fry in his mouth before sitting down. "It went just as well as I thought it would go."

"Are you two back together?"

"No, but I didn't expect us to be," he said in between bites. He paused. "But it's okay. Besides, I think I found someone else I'm interested in."

. . .

Arriving home, all of those hours of missed sleep finally fell on his shoulders, and he couldn't get to bed quick enough. The lack of conversation in the house told him that his parents had gone to bed and Sharron had gone home. He kicked his shoes off and changed into pajamas (honestly a shower could wait until the morning), and landed on his bed. Sleep followed soon after.


	4. The Stars Align

A group of about 13 students sat at desks against the classroom wall, paying close attention to the mock debate taking place in front of him. After school, they took extra time to gather for their debate club and fine tune their techniques to stand a chance at competitions at neighboring high schools. They each had their own strengths and weaknesses, and finding out what they were helped them come up with their best well-rounded teams that helped them win the last two competitions without a hitch. And they weren't planning on slowing down any this year.

Like other mock debates held the last five minutes of their meetings, two clubs members with almost opposite methods were given a topic, which stance to take, and had to argue their position without the time to do the typical amount of research, but the topics weren't as heavy handed as the usual political issues they were given at competitions. It usually pertained to smaller topics. For example, today the issue was school uniforms.

The 13 club members paid close attention. The debate between these 2 members were always heated. It was to be expected, as they were two of the most skilled members. It was a good thing the school was empty, or other students and teachers would have looked in with curiosity at the voices that were just barely holding back at yelling.

"The presence of school uniforms creates a 'level playing field; for all students. It goes without saying that at this age students preoccupied with their appearance, taking away from their focus in their studies and ability to reach their full potential," said Gretchen Grundler. She stood at one of the podiums, trying to defend the position she was given. Her orange-brown hair was kept pinned back in a braided ponytail. Under the gray and white argyle vest she wore was a simple long sleeved white blouse, matching her gray skirt. She adjusted her glasses as she continued her argument. "In addition, without the focus on the ultimately insignificant labels of their clothes, a main motivator of bullying by those who can afford more expensive brands will be gone."

"The 'level play field' you propose is negligible. Yes, students can be somewhat concerned about how they appear, but that is what comes at this crucial point in our lives when we are forming our identities and finding exactly where we belong in this world. The purpose of high school is to not just prepare its students for the next level in their education, but to foster a place of self-expression," TJ Detweiler shot back. To cope with the school lack of significant heating, he work a black sweater with a red shirt underneath, along with a pair of dark jeans. Having long ago outgrown his cap, he replaced with a dark red beanie. "As for the issue of bullying, there are plenty of other motivators that cause others to bully, and the issue cannot be solved by forcing students to change their style of dress. What kind of lesson would we be teaching if the answer to that particular sort of bullying is to change part of who you are instead of taking pride in it?"

"School is a place of education first and _foremost_. Just as others can find other things to bully each other over, there are many other forms of self-expression, and it is important to emphasize that their worth is not determined by the clothes that they wear. Studies done on this issue have all found that schools with uniform polices have students with higher test scores than those without."

"This is intense," one of the other club members whispered. Others nodded, agreeing with that statement. Their heads turned back and forth between the two debaters as they spoke.

"I've seen those same studies and the results are, again, negligible. Schools that enforce such polices tend to be private schools, which, overall, have higher test scores than public schools. I find that it is more about the quality of the education they receive than the clothes they wear. If the concern was truly about the education of the students than uniforms would be the last of the school officials concern."

The timer sitting on the desk between them rang, signaling the end of the debate. Though they stopped arguing, they continued to glare at each other. Slowly, those glares turned into smirk, then a laugh, breaking the tension that had built up in the room.

"Alright, good meeting, good meeting," Mr. Morton, a history teacher and who was in charge of the debate club. "Have a good weekend, and stay safe, a snow storm is supposed to be coming through."

"I see you've been working on your critical reasoning," Gretchen said. She put on her coat when she and TJ reached the front door of the school. Seeing the branches swaying in the chilly wind outside made her thankfully for the extra thick leggings she wore for that day. Still, the skies were clear, giving those looking up a clear view of the now setting sun.

"Yeah, thought I'd work on it after it almost cost us the win in the last championship," TJ said. Wrapping his scarf around his neck, he cringed at the winds just outside the door. "Looks like we're gonna have to make a run to my car. Unless you want me to pull up as close as I can get."

"You don't mind, do you? I underestimated how cold it would be today," she said.

"Nah, it's no problem," TJ said. He pulled up the hood of his coat and placed his hand on the front door. "Brace yourself for the cold."

A wall of freezing cold air burst through when he pushed the door open. Once in closed and finally died down, Gretchen brought her hands out of the front pockets of her coat and rubbed her hands together. The sounds of the basketball team practicing the gym echoed through the halls. She made a mental note to change into warmer clothes. Maybe three layers. And a blanket.

She watched TJ drive up in his red bucket of a car. She elbowed the door open and bolted to his car. That didn't do much, as the cold bit her the moment she took her first step out. Once she climbed into the car, she slammed the door, appreciating the heat coming out of the air vent.

"Are you excited about tonight?" TJ asked as he pulled onto the main road. The streets were, for the most part, empty.

"How can I not be? I'm going to meet Dr. Tyson! I have so many questions to ask him!" Gretchen said excitedly. It was enough to distract her from the remaining cold in her hands. "I hope I can get his autograph. There will probably be quite a number of people there, though. I might not be able to talk to him at all, let alone get an autograph."

"Relax, Gretch. The guys pretty famous. He's probably expecting a lot of people to show up wanting autographs," said TJ. "It'll be fine."

"I hope so. The chances of meeting him like this again are slim," she said. "Especially during a meteor shower."

"So I'll pick you up here in an hour and we'll head out?" TJ asked. He pulled up in front of her house and parked.

"Yep, that's the schedule," she said. "See you in an hour!"

Grabbing her bag, she bolted out the car and inside her house.

"Hello, mom?" She called when she closed the door.

"I'm in the kitchen, dear," her mother answered. Gretchen dropped her bag near the front door and joined her mother in the kitchen. She stood at the stove, carefully stirring of large pot. By the scent of the spices, she concluded that it was stew. It fit with the incoming weather as well. "How was debate club?"

"It was good, as per usual," Gretchen said. "Thanks again for letting me go out to the observatory."

"It's no problem. You've been working yourself ragged lately. I know you're smart, but it's not healthy to constantly be focused on school work. You're young, go out and have fun," her mother said. "Besides, you were really excited when you asked."

"I know. It's a really rare opportunity," she said as she shed her winter coat, scarf, and gloves. "I'm going to go double check and make sure I have everything I need."

. . .

"Good evening, Galileo."

Upon entering her room, she greeted her digital companion sitting and standby until she returned home from school. With newer and newer technology coming out in recent years, she found the bulky device that held the digital frog to be terribly out of date, she transferred him over to a brand new computer, complete with voice command that she programmed herself. The whole process took about an hour.

_"Good evening, Gretchen. Dr. Tyson posted a message on Twitter pertaining to the observatory public opening. Would you like me to read it?"_

"Yes, please and thank you. I hope he didn't cancel because of the weather," she said. Stripping out of her skirt, she kept the thick leggings on and went to her closet. She needed something different to wear with this weather. But she hated the thickness and limited movement that came with winter clothing.

 _"Oh, no. Quite the opposite in fact. He said that it still is taking place, but for those coming to be safe on the roads,"_ Galileo said.

"Thank God. I can't imagine how mad I would be if it were cancelled," Gretchen said. She slipped into a pair of thick jeans. She pondered changing the argyle vest out for a sweater. It only took a second to mull it over. She swapped it for a light yellow sweater, still keeping the button up underneath.

 _"Are you still planning on staying at a hotel?"_ asked Galileo.

"Only if we don't make it back before the storm, Galileo," she said. She opened the duffel back sitting on her bag, going through a mental list of things she would need. "There's still a chance we won't."

_"We?"_

"That's right. Me and TJ. I could have sworn I told you this," she said. "We're both into this sort of thing, so we're going together in his car. Worst case scenario, we'll have to camp out at a hotel until the storm moves through."

_"That's correct, you did tell me. I must've disregarded it as you and your old friends don't 'hang out' anymore."_

"We don't, but the two of us are in the debate club, so we see each other often," said Gretchen. She zipped the duffel bag. "Everything's here. Except my phone changer, but my phones charging right now. All there's left to do now is wait."

 _"Well, I hope you have fun, Gretchen. And be safe; the roads might have ice,_ " Galileo warned. _"And be extra careful if you have to stay at a hotel."_

"What do you mean?

_"You did say you might have to stay at a hotel. With a boy."_

"But it's just TJ. Nothing going to happen. I'm almost offended that you think something would," she said. She emptied her backpack, neatly placing her notebooks on her desk. Maybe she should bring a few. The storm might last straight through Saturday. "Besides, I'm sure he's dating Spinelli."

_"Still, teenage boys are unpredictable animals who have next to no self-control and prey on vulnerable, smart, and gentle girls such as yourself—"_

"While I appreciate the concern, Galileo, there's nothing to worry about. I'll be fine," she assured. A car horn blared in front of her house. She glanced out of her window and recognized the car belong to TJ. "Has it been an hour already? I have to go." She quickly snatched her phone of the charger, and stuffed that and her laptop in her backpack. "I'll see you later, Galileo."

When she picked up the bag, she cursed herself for not taking a greater interest in keeping up her physical strength just as she did her mental abilities. She turned off her light, leaving behind a pristine room to return to.

"Hold on, hold on. Take this with you," her mother said when she returned to the kitchen. She placed two very large thermos inside of a shopping plastic bag on the table in front of her daughter. "It's some of the stew I made. It'll help keep you warm."

"Thanks, mom," she said, zipping her coat. "I appreciate it."

"Now remember to send me a text when you get on the road and when you get there, alright?"

"Alright." The car horn was heard. "I better get going. Bye, mom!"

. . .

"Ready to head out?"

The warmth from the thermos was enough to convince Gretchen to clutch them to her chest and bring them with her to the front seat. Opening the top, she took a mouthful, relishing in the heat more so than the flavor.

"Ready," she said after swallowing.

"What's that?" TJ asked.

"Stew. My mom made a whole pot and made me bring a lot," said Gretchen. Screwing the top back on, she held out the second thermos. "Want some?"

"Thanks, but no thanks," he said. "My mom made sure I thought a thermos full of hot chocolate."

"Hot chocolate? Why not coffee?"

"I never liked coffee. It makes my heart palpitate," said TJ. "But let's get going before we're late."

. . .

When they arrived, the parking lot was empty aside from three other cars. If it weren't for the sign reading "welcome stargazers!" standing nearby, they would've questioned if this was the correct place. Gretchen, who had fallen asleep on the way and only had woken up a few moments before they arrived, was fully awake once the car was parked and she fully realized where she was.

Stepping out of the car, they both looked up at the observatory, still a short walk away at the top of a few flight of stairs. The biting cold was forgotten by the both of them as they started their climb up. Every few steps, an arrow would be tapped on the railing directing them upwards.

"C'mon, we want to get home before the storm," a man in a small group they passed on their way up said.

"You don't think it's closed now, do you?" Gretchen asked. They paused, watched the group make their way down the wooden stairs.

"There's only one say to find out," TJ said. "Let's keeping going."

She nodded, and continued to lead the way to the top. The way was longer than it looked. Occasionally they had to slow down to avoid slipping on ice that had formed on a few of the steps. But the long car ride and facing the cold was all worth it when they reached the observatory, and saw the red light coming out of it.

"Hello? Is anyone there?" Gretchen called out.

"Yes, yes, I'm still here!" A male voice called from inside the observatory. An African-american man in his late 40s or early 50s stepped out of the observatory. Wearing a very thick coat, it was a wonder," how he was able to move at all. "Are you two here for the opening?"

"We are! You weren't about to close, were you?" Gretchen asked.

"In about an hour, I was. I was just adjusting the telescope to focus in on Jupiter," Mr. Tyson said. "Come on inside. It's still chilly, but at least it keeps out the wind."

The inside of the observatory wasn't too large, but it had more than enough space for the three of them. A few charts and books were on a table, with the books acting as a paper wait. The red lightbulb was on the wall nearby, next to a sign that listened all the closing procedures for the observatory.

"How long have you to been interested in astronomy?" Mr. Tyson asked. He continued to adjust the telescope for the clearest picture.

"Yeah, ever since were kids," TJ said. "The first book about space that I read was by you."

"That's great! Inspiring people to get into science is what I live for," he said. "And. . .we have full view of Jupiter. Which one of you wants to look first?"

"Go ahead, Gretch. Coming up here was your idea," said TJ. "Ladies first."

"Thank you."

As Mr. Tyson stepped aside, she stood in front of the telescope and looked through the eyepiece. Once her eyes adjusted, she saw Jupiter and a few of its more outstanding gas rings, and even a couple of its moons.

They spent most the remaining hour looking at, not only Jupiter, bur Saturn, and Mars as well. Gretchen was able to engage in a deep conversation about the subject, as well as getting an autograph. Overall, the choice to come out and the effort they had to put in to convince their parents was worth it, even if it was only for an hour.

. . .

When the snow starting coming down, it started as a slight flurry, nothing to worry about. It was one of those light flakes that made students get their hopes up that school would be cancelled or end early. But it eventually turned into a heaver, thicker, snowfall, that made it difficult to see past ten feet in front of the car.

"I think we better find a hotel. Or motel," TJ said. Even with the window blades going as fast as they could, it didn't help improve visibility on the road. Flipped his high beams on. It being night didn't help at all. "Can you search on your phone for any nearby?"

"I'm already searching," Gretchen said. She typed away on her phone. She scrolled through the search results until she found something near where they currently were. "There's a hotel a mile up, off the next exit. It's $75 dollars a night."

"Great! We're going there."

"I should probably call my mom," she said. Before she could scroll down to her home number, he phone screen went black, displaying the low battery icon, and shutting off. "Damn phone. The battery's dead."

"Use mine," TJ said. He handed her his phone out of his coat pocket. "The password is 9225."

"Thanks," she said. Unlocking the phone, she paused when she saw the background was a simple three colors, blue, yellow, and pink, that she recognized. Her eyes wided a bit when he remembered what exactly those colors stood for together.

"Aren't you gonna call your mom?" He asked, turning onto the exit.

"Oh, right. I am," Gretchen said. Quickly, he dialed her home phone number. The second ring barely began before it was answered.

"Hello, Gretchen?" Her mother answered. "Are you on your way back?"

"We were. But the storm caught us. We're going to check in at a hotel until it's over," Gretchen said.

"I see it. It's right up ahead," TJ told her.

"What's the name of the hotel?" her mother asked.

"Just a standard Days Inn. We're about to pull in," she said.

"Good, good. Don't forget the emergency credit card me and your father gave you," said her mother. "Now would be a good time to use it."

"I know, mother. I have it with me."

While she talked on the phone, the car was parked in front of the hotel. Judging by how few cars there were, not many people were staying there, and rooms were available. By now the snowfall increased, making being on the road highly dangerous. Any longer and they might not have made it here.

Once inside the lobby, they shook off the snow that fell on their heads and shoulders. Behind the counter sat a college-aged girl, probably working there over winter break, flipping through a magazine. She looked up and stopped blowing her bubble gum when they came to the counter.

"Can I help you?" She asked.

"Yeah, we need a room. Kinda can't go anywhere in this storm," said TJ. "It's 75 bucks a night, right?"

"Uh-huh. But we don't let teenagers rent hotel rooms," Carrie, her name tag read, said.

"We can't exactly make it back home in this weather. It's too dangerous to be on the road," Gretchen said. "Surely you can make an exception in this case."

"Hold on," she huffed, turning and going into the back.

"You'd think we wouldn't have to ask. We can't exactly go home right now," TJ said.

"Still, hotels have policies, and like to stick to them," said Gretchen. She searched through her backpack for her wallet and pulled out a credit card. She placed it on the counter, ready to use it. "Then again, I doubt they'll be willing to risk forcing us back on the road."

"You don't gotta pay for it. I have enough," he said.

"No, you've already been kind enough to drive us out here. I didn't even give you gas money. Besides, my mom is expecting me to use this," she said. "Think of it as my half for this trip."

"What seems to be the problem?" A much older looking man came out from the back. By the looks of it, he was the manager of the hotel.

"We need a room. We tried to get home from where we came from, but the storm caught us," TJ explained. "I know you don't rent rooms to teens, but can you make an exception in this case?"

"Hmm. That storm does look nasty. Well, alright. For this case, we'll give you two a room," he said. "How are you paying?"

. . .

Gretchen dropped her bags on the first bed she saw in their hotel room. Two full beds, a TV in front of them, a mini kitchen close to the door, bathroom, and window, it was pretty standard for a hotel. The bed wasn't half bad either, though she didn't know if it was because she was tired, or the bed was genuinely comfortable.

"Tired?" TJ asked her. He placed his bags next to the only remaining bed.

"Like you wouldn't believe. I need a hot shower but I can't get up," she said. She kicked her boots off, and they landed on the floor with a thump. Getting into pajamas and snuggling into bed sounded really nice at the moment. Maybe after a few cups of that stew to help lull her to sleep.

"C'mon. Gimme your hands. I'll pull you up," TJ said. She found the strength to hold her arms up just high enough for him to grab and pull her to het feet. "That wasn't so bad, was is it?"

"It was the worst," she joked as she grabbed her bag. "I can't wait to go to sleep. But shower first."

. . .

The moment she was in her pajamas, Gretchens moments were pretty much robotic as she exited the bathroom, dropped her bag next to her bed, and collapsed on her bed. Sometime between then and how she supposed she wiggled her way under the covers and placed her head on a pillow, though she doesn't remember doing so.

Waking up in the middle of the night, she struggled to keep a death grip on sleep, but it failed as it slipped from between her fingers. Groaning, she opened her eyes to a dark hotel room. Not pitch black however, as there was still a bit of light coming from somewhere in the room. Maybe that's what woke her up? She turned over, facing the window and TJ's bed. He laid on his back, under the covers, scrolling through his phone, seemingly unaware that she was now awake.

What time was it? She didn't put her phone on the changer, so it's still dead. That brought her attention to her glasses. Forgetting that she even had them and thus accidently sleeping with them on happened often enough for her consider getting contacts just to avoid breaking them or bending the arms from sleeping on them. She patted around the covers for any lump that might tell her where either two of those items might be.

"Did my phone light wake you up?" TJ asked.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, probably," she mumbled. She pulled out her glasses and phone. The glasses where, thankfully, unbent. "What are you still doing up?"

"I couldn't sleep," he said. "Got a lot on my mind."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not right now. But thanks," TJ said. "I appreciate the offer, though. But we should probably get to sleep. It's 2 am."

She nodded, remembering how tired she was. A good nights rest is what she needed if she didn't want to feel like a zombie in the morning. Turning over, she wrapped the covers around herself and went to back sleep.

. . .

The only sound that greet Gretchen when she woke up was the harsh winds blowing against the building. She certainly felt a lot better than when she woke up in the middle of the night, but the bed and covers had a good grip on her. But she managed to fight it of and go to the window. Opening the curtains, all she saw was a wall of white. When she put her glasses on a squinted a bit, she could see the thick snowflakes coming down diagonally.

"The powers probably out," she mumbled. She checked, and to her surprise, the lights came on without a hitch. "That's one thing I don't have to worry about. I wonder where TJ went."

As if on cue, the door opened and TJ came on through, pushing a cart filled to almost the brim with covered plates.

"The staff came up earlier and said they made breakfast. I would've woken you up then, but you were really tired. They said they had enough food for a week, but since there's only us here it'll last a lot longer," he said, kicking the door close. "They made French toast and eggs. You don't mind that, do you?"

"No, I just want food," she said, taking a plate.

"Wow, it's really coming down out there," TJ said. He went to the window to get a closer look. "Fun fact, I actually like snowstorms."

"Really? Why?" Gretchen asked with a mouthful of egg. "Time off school?"

"Well, there's that," he chuckled. Grabbing a plate for himself, he sat next to Gretchen in the remaining seat nearby the window. "But I like how quiet it is outside _after_. It's like the whole world is given permission to just relax and take a nap. And stop worrying about things for a day or two."

"That's an eloquent way of putting it," she said. "I could use a day like this, then."

"Really? What are you worrying about?"

"You know. Thy typical things people our age worry about. School, grades, and now college now that we're juniors," said Gretchen.

" _You?_ You're telling me that you, Gretchen Grundler, the smart girl in the whole school, and probably the state, is worried about school, grades, and college?" He asked in disbelief.

"Even geniuses worry about these things, TJ," she said.

"But why? Someone with your grades has the whole world ahead of them. You can pick anything you want to be and go for it without anything holding you back."

"You're not wrong in that aspect. And I am lucky for that sort of chance. But. . .," she paused, seating her fork an knife down. "Can I tell you a secret?"

"Yeah, sure. I'm good a keeping those."

"I'm starting to experience what many others call 'burn out'," she said. "It's not that I feel overloaded with school work. That's not the case at all. It's just that I'm getting sick of doing it. It's all I focus on. And the aspect of doing more of that for 4 or more years sucks the energy right out of me. I think it would be best if I took a year or two before I go to college."

"Wow. Heh, and I feel burnt out after a few tests," he joked. "But if that's what you feel you need to do, then go for it, Gretch. You don't wanna go to college before you're ready. Besides, even after _five_ years, I bet Ivy League schools would still be fighting for you to go to one of them. What do you wanna go for? Physics? Medicine? Biology? A new field in science altogether?"

"I'm not sure. Another reason why I shouldn't go right away, I suppose," said Gretchen. "Thanks for listening. I'm still trying to think of a way to tell my parents."

"I'm sure they'll understand."

"What about you? Have you decided what you want to study in college?" she asked.

"Nah. I guess I sort of have the opposite problem you do. My grades aren't exactly noteworthy and I don't have many talents, so I'm not sure what I want to do," TJ said.

"You have plenty of talents. Like debating. You helped bring us to the championship the last two years. You can go into politics with that sort of skill."

"But politics is so corrupt. I'm not getting involved with that. I like debates, not politics," he said. "Debates are fun, and politics is just manipulating people. I can't do that. I want to help people, not use them."

"Maybe a teacher, then?"

"I actually thought about that. But more time in school? Nah, I'll pass. I'll probably take a year or two off, too. To figure out what I want to do," he said. "But enough talking about depressing stuff. We get the weekend away from home, let's have some fun!"

"And exactly what fun can we have snowed in at a hotel?" Gretchen asked. The wind still blew outside, limiting what they could do. She sat her finished plate on the cart and went into the bathroom to wash her hands.

"I dunno. We'll think of something. Maybe we can watch a movie or something. There's a gym downstairs. Or sleep. I can really sleep," TJ said. "Sleep sounds really good, right now."

Gretchen's phone rang from the table next to her bed. After leaving his plate on the cart, TJ checked to see who it.

"Hey, Gretchen?"

"Yes?"

"Galileo is calling you. Is that normal?"

"No, it's not," she said, coming out of the bathroom. She snatched the phone up and huffed. "Hello, Galileo?"

"Oh thank goodness, Gretchen, you answered!" She heard Galileo say. "Are you alright?'

"I'm fine, Galileo. Perfectly fine. I'm at a hotel, like I said I would be," she said. "With TJ."

_"Oh, right."_

As he decided to rant on, Gretchen covered her mouth and chuckled.

"What's so funny?" TJ asked

"Galileo thinks we're up to something since we're in a hotel together," she said. "I tried telling him otherwise, but he won't listen to reason. He doesn't like you right now."

"Can you put him on speaker?" He asked.

"Why?"

"Just do it, I'm gonna mess with him," he snickered. Curious as to what he had in mind, Gretchen put her phone on speaker, letting Galileo's rant be heard throughout the room.

_"And I am sure his record would not look favorable in the eyes of the authorites—"_

"Hey, Galileo! Long time no hear!" TJ said. "Gretchen tells me you're worried about her being around me. And I promise you, that I can control myself. Even though she is quite beautiful, I will _fight_ , and control my male urges, even if it kills me. But I AM fighting a losing battle. Both of us are, really. With these _RAGING_ teenage hormones, you know."

"TJ, you're going to make him malfunction," she warned. Still, she was holding back a laugh.

"But you can trust me, Galileo. I will keep my hands to myself, as long as I can, anyways."

"He's just kidding, Galileo!"

"No I'm not."

_"Gretchen, this young man is dangerous," Galileo said. "Find another hotel room, please."_

"I'm _fine_. TJ's just joking with you. Listen, I'll be back home in a day or two, depending on how soon the roads get cleared. Try not to worry about me, okay? I'll see you then." Before the computer program could reply, she ended the call. "Thanks to you I'm going to be hounded about this when I get home!"

"Aw, I was just having a little fun," TJ said, still chuckling. "He's concerned about you."

"A little too much," Gretchen said. "But it was funny, I'll admit. Now what are we going to do?"

"I was gonna head down to the gym. It's nothing special, but it has all the basic stuff a gym needs," he said. "I can't get too lazy. And all that laughing gave me a lot of energy, so might as well burn it. You wanna come? You looked like you were having trouble just carrying your duffel bag."

"You noticed that? I must be weaker than I thought,' she said. "I probably, should. What good is a strong brain inside of a weak body?"

"Yeah, you are kinda scrawny."

"I am not scrawny!" She defended, folding her arms. He just chuckled.

"A little bit. Not in a bad way, though," he said. "I'll see you down there, okay?"

Once the door closed when he left, Gretchen huffed. She looked at the mirror that hung on the back of the door and was greeted with a reflection of her rather skinny frame. Exercise was definitely wasn't her strong point, though she did watch what she ate and didn't divulge on sweets too often.

A little bit of regular exercise couldn't hurt, right?  
. . .

"I almost thought you wouldn't come."

When Gretchen finally made it down to the hotels gym, she wore a pair of pink shorts and white t-shirt, nothing special. Gym were always intimidating in her opinion. All those people who already knew what they were doing and like they didn't need to be there anyways. The fear of looking like an fool was enough to keep her away.

"I was thinking about exercising long before this moment," Gretchen said. She stepped onto the treadmill next to the one TJ was keeping a steady run on. "Now, how do you start this contraption."

"Just push the start button," he said, pushing pause on his treadmill. "Those two arrows on the left are for the speed. You wanna work your way up since you're new at this. The arrows on the left are for incline."

"Alright, that doesn't sound too bad," she said.

She started at 2.5 mph, which was about a light walk. Feeling confident enough, she brought it up to 3 mph, a fast walk. Still, she might as well have been crawling in comparison to TJ, who was still running and had yet to have broken a sweat. Then again he must've been doing this for years and built up an endurance as a result. She would just have to work on her own.

With another burst of confidence, she increased the speed to 3, then 4 mph to a light jog.

Five minutes later and she regretted that choice. Breathing hard, the back of her throat burned, but not nearly as much as her legs were. How did people manage to do this on a regular basis? Now she could understand why most people didn't stick to a regular exercise routine.

She pressed the pause button, and the treadmill gradually slowed to a stop.

"You okay?" TJ asked. She bent over, hands on her knees, while grasping for air. "That's gonna make it harder for you catch your breath. You have to stand up straight."

"I know,I know. . ." she gasped.

Gretchen managed to stand up, but leaned against the handles of the treadmill, still worn out. TJ stepped off his, quickly going over to the vending machine next to the door. He returned with two bottles of water, and handed her one.

"Thanks," she said. Three large gulps and she only felt slightly better.

"You did good. Better than most people on their first day," TJ said.

"You're not just saying that because I'm your friend, are you?" Gretchen asked.

"No, really. For someone starting out, you did good. You'll do even better if you keep going," he said.

"Thanks, but I'm not trying to run a marathon like you can," she said. "Just a regular routine is good enough."

"You wanna work on muscles next? I promise you won't lose your breath."

"Yeah, that, uh, that sounds nice."

. . .

"That was the worst decision I have made in my entire life."

By the end of her time at the gym, her arms and legs ached, and it was a miracle that she had enough strength to make it back to their hotel room. It was a good thing they were only on the second floor, or else TJ might've had to carry her most of the way.

"High lactate built up, burning muscles, body struggling to flush it out," she moaned. She laid on her back on her bed, worn out, and questioning the need to work out again. " _Pain."_

"Don't worry, that'll stop happening the more you go," said TJ. "The trick is actually going back tomorrow."

"TJ why are you trying to kill me?"

"No pain no gain," he said. "But seriously, if you stretch and take a cold shower, it'll help you feel better. C'mon, gimme your hands I'll pull you up."

She groaned, only managing to bring her arms up by a few inches. Her muscles protested, aching at her attempt to move her limbs. Was she _that_ out of shape? Did gym class do nothing to keep her in relatively decent physical shape? She might have to write a complaint letter. She tried again, but failed. Seeing she wasn't able to get up on her own, TJ grabbed her hands as they lied on the bed and gently pulled her up to her feet.

"I think my feet are the only thing that don't hurt," she commented. "I need to soak for an hour. Can you carry my bag into the bathroom? I don't have the strength."

"Sure."

. . .

The next two hours was spent in relative silence, with the TV creating background noise with whatever movie was on. By the sound of it, it was some generic mystery film from the 80s that more than likely had a sequel. On their phones, Gretchen and TJ didn't pay much attention to the TV in favor of scrolling through their phones and social media feeds as most teens do.

According to the news, the worst of the storm would be hitting later that night before moving out by early morning. Considering how long it might take to clear the roads, they guessed they'd be able to head back home sometime in the afternoon.

Sending her mother a text just to check in, Gretchen glanced at the TV to see if the movie was remotely interesting. It wasn't. There wasn't much else to do though. Maybe do some schoolwork? No, if there was ever a weekend to take a break from that, it would be now. She stretched, and her muscled ached in response.

She looked over at TJ, who was still focusing on whatever was on his phone, probably effected by the same amount of boredom as she was. With most likely more friends than she had, she assumed that he was texting his friends, if the tapping away at the screen was any indication. Then she remembered the background she saw on his phone.

"TJ?" she spoke up.

"Huh?" He asked, not looking up from his phone.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Yeah, go ahead."

"When you let me use your phone earlier, in your car, I saw the background you had for it, and I recognized it," she said carefully. "So does that mean you're. . .you know. . "

"Pansexual? Yeah. I never told anyone because I didn't think it was that big of a deal," TJ said. "It's not worth the time trying to explain it to people anyways so if anyone decides to ask I plan on just telling them I'm bi. But so far no one has."

"That makes sense, I suppose," she said. "But thank you for trusting me enough to tell me."

"Yeah, no problem. It's nice knowing someone who already understands what it is," he said. "I'm getting kinda hungry. I'm gonna go see what's for dinner. I heard they were planning on making burgers."

When he hotel door closed, her phone buzzed. She rolled her eyes when she saw it was from Galileo. She choose to ignore it, though more messages continued to roll in, signaled by that same increasingly annoying buzz.

. . .

Waking up in the middle of the night for the second time, Gretchen was sure it was going to adversely affect her sleep schedule. She shivered, bringing her legs closer to her chest for more warmth. All the heat has left the room, leaving it cold and biting, and tempting even the most reasonable person to start a fire. She reached out for her glasses and quickly put them on.

"It's freezing in here," she heard TJ say from his bed. "Did the heat go bust or something?"

"That would be the most likely cause," Gretchen said. She began to shiver, pulling the covers and sheets tightly around her body. She watched TJ climb out of bed and walk, shivering, to the light switch next to the front door. She heard it being flipped on and off again and again, but the lights didn't come on.

"Looks like you were right. Powers out," he said, coming back over.

"I can't sleep in this cold. I'll be frozen by morning," Gretchen said. Her teeth began to clatter.

"I mean, we _could_ sleep in the same bed and put our covers on top of each other," he suggested. "If that's okay with you. I think it's the only way we're not gonna become popsicles, unless the people working here are gonna come by with extra blankets."

"I'll try anything to stay warm."

She returned her glasses to the nightstand and almost buried herself under the covers. As much as a large cup of her mothers stew would help warm her up, she couldn't bring herself to get from under the covers to get to it and warm it up. She felt the added weight of extra covers as TJ placed his over hers. She moved over, making room for him as he climbed in.

"Better?" He asked.

"I'm getting there," said Gretchen. "You still always have a plan, don't you?"

"Sometimes," he said. "G'night."

"Good night."

. . .

The beeping of her phone alarm woke Gretchen up. Sundays were usually spent working of school assignments, but not today. She leaned over, turned the alarm off, and turned back around, and laid back down on TJ's chest.

Judging the light filtering in through the curtains, the snow storm as past, and one could step outside without becoming a snowman or being blown 20 miles west. If that was the case, they the roads should be cleared within a few hours, and they'll be clear to go home. But it was still the weekend, and sleeping in sounded really nice.

. . .

. . .

. . .

Wait. . .

When she realized what position she was in, Gretchen jolted up. The room was warmer than before, meaning the power was back on, which was a good thing. Still asleep, TJ laid on his back, lightly snoring and blissfully unaware of what just happened. Good. She laid back down, this time on the mattress and pillow.

She never really had the opportunity to look at him up this close. He still had those childish, reddish freckles sprinkled on his cheeks and across this nose. Who would've guessed that chubby, troublemaking kid would've grown up and become so handsome? And smart, too. He was the only one who she could go toe to toe with in any debate, and Psychics class. The last one came as a surprise. Apparently when TJ was really interested in something, even something as difficult as physics class, he excelled. It made for interesting science projects.

With a deep breath, TJ started to wake up. He stretched, then settled back down into the covers.

"Is it morning?" He asked. He blinked a few times to adjust to the light.

"It is. And the power is back on," she said. "The storm is over, too."

"That's great! We can go home as soon as the roads are clear," he said. "Did you have fun this weekend?"

"I did. I was the most fun I've had in a while. And the longest I've gone without thinking about my next assignment or worry about college," said Gretchen. "Thank you, TJ. I guess I didn't know that I needed this weekend."

"Sure, no problem," he said, rubbing his eyes. "Glad I was able to help."

. . .

They were able to head out at 2. After a big breakfast and lunch and thanking the hotel staff, they were back on the road. After 2 careful drive lasting an hour, they made it back to Third Street. Gretchen waved goodbye from her porch once she was dropped off. Once inside her house, she dropped her bag, ready to sleep in her _own_ bed.

"Gretchen, is that you?" She heard her mother call from the living room.

"It's me, mom," she said, joining her mother on the couch.

"Did you have fun at the observatory?" asked her mother.

"Oh, it was amazing, mom! Dr. Tyson talked to be about everything I could ask about, and I even got his autograph!" She said excitably. "I might've been freezing the whole time, but it was definitely worth it."

"I'm glad you had fun sweetheart," her mother said. "I'm making lasagna for dinner. You go and settle in, aright?"

She nodded, forcing herself off the couch. Upstairs in her room, she stopped herself from turning Galileo on by greeting him. When she dropped her bags, her phone vibrated in her pocket. It was a message from TJ.

_TJ: I forgot to send you these pictures I took up at the observatory._

Six picture loaded soon after. The first was of her looking through the telescope, and the next four was of her talking to Dr. Tyson, excited at the opportunity just to be there. The last was the only one that she knew he took, of the three of them together with Dr. Tyson in the middle.

"I didn't know he took those other pictures," she mumbled. "Huh. He just keeps on thinking about others, doesn't he?"

Smiling, she sat her phone down and started unpacking her bags.


End file.
